


Epithymy

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dom/sub, Drow, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Rough Sex, S&M, bounty hunter!silva, drow!chrollo, drow!hisoka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-09 08:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 84,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: A bird in a gilded cage is still a bird in a cage. Chrollo may call the Underdark home, but that sure as hell doesn't mean he plans on staying down there for the rest of his life.It would just be nice if his lover felt the same way.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!! finally posting this monster ive been working on for the past month. i think youll really like it, its a good time. few things before we begin! i plan on turning this into a book. its pretty much fully written for that and im giving you guys the entire thing sans two chapters that would serve as more relationship/introductory chapters. because of this, ive got something i'd like to ask of you!
> 
> please. PLEASE comment on this. even if its just one comment at the end, i really need feedback! im giving you p much an entire book because this is a style ive never written before and i'd like you to serve as a sorta focus group to tell me if i succeeded or not. all i need to know is if you enjoyed it, if you felt there was enough backstory/world building given the genre, and if there were any moments you felt that needed more/better execution. please and thank you in advance!!
> 
> with that said, i really hope you enjoy! shoutout to my supporters illumiknife, intrepidescapist, happyclappyhippydrift, letstalkhxh, officialpeakspider, miketheanimeguy, and razzledazzlered. thank you guys for your support!!

The tavern was crowded when Silva managed to shove his way inside, filled with smoke and bodies and the stink of sweat and ale. It was better than the storm outside, but only just. Silva shouldered his way inside and let the door slam shut behind him, nose wrinkling but too used to this sort of environment to bother complaining. He had a job to do. He could complain after. 

“What’ll you have?” the elderly man asked from behind the bar, bushy eyebrows blending with his wild mane of white hair. He was polishing glasses with a dingy rag, keeping up the veneer of productivity while accomplishing little at all. “Look like a drowned mire rat, you do.” 

“Feel like one,” Silva grunted, waving off the proffered glass to lean against the grimy bar. Water sloughed off his cloak, the rain matting the fur trim.  He’d be in for a miserable night if the weather didn’t calm itself. He really didn’t want to pay for lodging in a place like this. 

The old man hummed and went back to his pointless cleaning. “What brings you to these parts?” he asked, seeming desperate for conversation. Silva’s father was the same way, always eager to talk someone’s ear off if they stayed still for too long. “Don’t get many with that accent ‘round here.” 

“Here on business,” Silva said gruffly, knowing better than to tell the old timer he was a bounty hunter. Even if he wasn’t on a job, it tended to make any known or unknown criminals in the vicinity twitchy. “Meeting a client.”

“Ahh, yer waitin’ for someone,” the man said sagely as he tapped the side of his nose, blinking his bushy browed eyes. The rag in his hands paused. “Say, you wouldn’t be lookin’ for that shady bloke back there?” he asked, gesturing to the furthest corner of the bar where a single figure stood out against the lively background of the bar. “Been sittin’ there all night, he has. Been tellin’ my boys to keep an eye on him. Doesn’t feel right, if you get my meanin’. Best not to bother yourself with bad news, son.”

“I make my living on bad news,” Silva sighed, pushing away from the bar. He pulled a silver piece from his pocket and dropped it onto the bar, nodding at the man evenly. “Thanks for the warning, old man.”

“You’d be thankin’ me more if you listened, but I’m not your pa,” the barkeep huffed, palming the coin and turning away to go tend to the other customers. A dwarf banged his goblet on the top of the bar, growing violent in his need for a refill. “See that you keep that trouble to yerself, son,” he called, leaving Silva to his work. 

Silva rolled his eyes, turning around to face the tavern at large. First order of business when meeting a new client was always the same, no matter the venue, no matter the client. The room was large and crowded with carefully segmented groups that bespoke of regular customers. A card table was set up in the middle of the tavern, its occupants ranging from a hard-eyed halfing to a brutish looking boar of a man losing handsomely to her. A few onlookers were gathered around betting on the outcome, and around them sat individual tables of lonely drinkers, adventurers worn out from the day’s travels, and old men and women regaling each other with stories in between drinks of their bar swill. 

His first perusal told him that there weren’t many visible weapons, which Silva considered a boon. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d been dragged into a bar fight while in the middle of hammering out the details of a new contract. It was always a possibility in this type of setting, and he’d learned long ago that exposed weapons only added to the carnage. He may have relished it in his youth, but these days all it did was add to his growing collection of scars, scare off more customers than it brought in, and get him kicked out of the tavern for the night. He certainly didn’t need that, especially on a night like this. 

And that then brought him to the shadowy figure tucked into the corner. If this were indeed his client, and all signs pointed to him being just that, then he was far smaller than Silva had anticipated him being. Even from across the room Silva could see he was just a little slip of a thing, wrapped up in his cloak as he was. Small gloved hands were wrapped around a steaming mug, the hood not shifting an inch as it was lifted and sipped from. Silva observed for another few moments, trying to read the stranger, but there simply was nothing left to garner. This person could be armed to the teeth or be as harmless as a child and Silva wouldn’t know the truth until he got within striking range. 

Silva let out a sigh, blinking tiredly. He had walked into worse, so there really was no point in prolonging it any longer than he already had. Shifting his axe higher onto his shoulder, he cut through the oblivious drinkers, glaring at the eyes that followed him until they went back to their mugs. He could already tell which were the ‘boys’ the barkeep had been referring to. It really didn’t bode well that his prospective client had already garnered enough attention to be watched like a hawk in somewhere as innocuous as a tavern.

“I take it you’re the one who contacted me?” Silva said by way of greeting, coming up to the table slowly, assessing. There was an empty seat across from the solitary figure but he was hesitant to take it. It was one thing to get within striking distance with minimal information. It was another thing entirely to willfully sit across from the stranger as if they were old friends.  

The voice that replied to him was entirely unlike anything he expected to hear. “I suppose I am,” the stranger said in a soft, melodic voice. “Are you the feared bounty hunter Silva?”

“You sound surprised,” Silva grunted, dragging the chair out and sitting down. The stranger didn’t sound older than twenty, and that in itself calmed Silva’s distrust. But just to be careful, he unslung his axe from his back and rested it against his leg, just in case. “Were you expecting something different?”

A gloved hand tugged the hood of the stranger’s cloak lower, obscuring his face but for his cheeky little smile. “I suppose I expected someone a little less wet,” he teased, his lips parting to showcase a row of sharp, white teeth. “But I shouldn’t poke fun. It’s a mess outside.”

Silva hummed, narrowing his eyes. “You’re the one who contacted me?” he said, trying and failing to catch a glimpse beneath the cloak. “I expect to look my employer in the eye when discussing business.” 

“Ah, well,” he began, his hands fluttering nervously around his cloak. Upon closer inspection, it looked shiny and slick, almost as if it were treated to repel the elements. Expensive. “I’m trying to avoid attention. Don’t take it personally.” 

“That’s not how I operate.” Silva made a move to pick up his axe, lifting himself from the chair. “Thanks for wasting my time.”

Quick as lightning a slender hand shot out to wrap around Silva’s wrist, holding him in place in a desperate move. “Please don’t leave,” the stranger said, biting his lip with his perfect, sharp teeth. “My name is Chrollo? At least hear me out first. I can make it worth your while.”

He let out a sigh but sank back into his seat. The alternative was going back out into that rain. “Chrollo?” he repeated, rolling the strange name on his tongue. “Where are you from?”

Chrollo let go of Silva’s wrist, settling back down into his own seat with a nervous little shuffle. Carefully he peered around at the bar behind Silva, tugging up his hood just a bit to show his dark, dark skin and his pointed ears. “It’s just easier to show you, I guess,” he murmured quietly, meeting Silva’s gaze with a pair of eyes so deep that just looking in them induced the sensation of drowning. “Please don’t leave. It really was a lot of work to get in contact with you.”

Drow. Silva’s lip curled in distaste. That answered that question. He had only ever dealt with them sporadically, and usually never in such a public setting. They were notorious for keeping to themselves, especially aboveground like this. Silva supposed that was probably do to the stigma more than anything. Drow certainly weren’t well received here. “You’re a long way from the Underdark,” he observed gruffly, letting his arms fall from his chest so he could rest a hand on his axe beneath the table. “I’m surprised they let you in here.”

Chrollo’s polite smile grew tight. His small nose wrinkled as he pulled his hood down lower. “Yeah, well,” he began, looking about as uncomfortable as a Drow above the earth should look. “There’s a reason I kept my hood up. Is this going to be a problem?”

Silva didn’t know how to answer that. He certainly didn’t  _ want  _ to work for a Drow. The added risk it presented was far more than he would ever willingly accept on any other job. “That depends,” he drawled, leaning back in his seat to better take in the potential customer before him, “on what you’re wanting done. I’ll tell you right now, I don’t kill for less than five thousand.”

“I don’t need you to kill anyone,” the Drow huffed, wrinkling his small nose. “I could do that myself if I needed it done so badly. I just need you to escort me for a bit. Or do you charge five thousand for that too?”

Escort? If there was one thing in this world Silva hated, it was escorting some helpless brat. “I’m a bounty hunter, not a babysitter,” Silva said.

“I’m aware,” the Drow replied, furrowing his brow. 

If he were so aware of that, then why bother coming to Silva? There were plenty of others around that could handle something as simple as an escort contract. What a waste of his time. “It’ll cost you.” Watch this brat have barely two gold to rub together. “I don’t do charity work.” Even for the pretty ones. 

The Drow rolled his dark eyes. Silva hadn’t met many Drow in his time, but he knew that this one’s coloring was odd for their race. Everything about him was dark, muted. Black hair peeked past the edge of the hood, as shiny and sleek as the feathers on a raven’s wings. His eyes were a midnight gray, at odds with Silva’s memory of brilliant red or burning pink. As Chrollo shifted to reach for something beneath the table, Silva drank in his petite figure. No, this was certainly something different. In both behavior and appearance, it seemed. 

A thick, rough sack hit the scarred tabletop with a metallic rattle. “Is this enough?” Chrollo asked, leaning forward to push the money closer to Silva. His fingers were slender, their dark color stark against the tan of the sackcloth. “It’s not quite five thousand, but I think you’d be an idiot to refuse it either way.”

Silva dragged over the sack and loosened the drawstrings, his eyes going wide when he looked inside and found it full of not silver or bronze, but pure gold coins. There were dozens of them, all neatly stamped with the Imperial crest for the region. Carefully he lifted a coin from the bundle and bit down on it, testing its authenticity. 

“Oh, come on,” Chrollo huffed, crossing his arms over his small chest. “It’s real. I just traded for it all earlier this evening.”

“You can’t blame me for doubting you,” Silva retorted, a bit rankled that it was in fact real. 

“If you’re going to be like that, I can take my business elsewhere. If me being what I am offends you then I don’t want to trust you with my safety.” 

Silva rolled his eyes and dropped the bent coin back into the sack, closing the bundle with a sharp tug to the drawstrings. “It won’t be an issue,” he said, fastening the payment to his hip. “I’m a professional. Where are you wanting escorted? Back to the Underdark?” He hadn’t been that way in a long while, and the thought alone of traveling downwards made his skin crawl. 

He hadn’t expected to make the Drow laugh. If Silva were being honest with himself, he hadn’t thought the race capable of something like humor unless it were directed at something foul or sadistic. Chrollo wiped an errant tear from his dark, dark eyes and smiled at Silva brightly. “Oh, absolutely not. I don’t want to go anywhere near there,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “What I want from you is a little unorthodox.”

“More unorthodox than a Drow who doesn’t want to go back to the Underdark?” Silva posed, brow raised. It just earned him another laugh, one that he begrudgingly had to admit sounded rather pleasant. 

“I suppose when you put it like that…” Chrollo looked off at the bar, turning back quickly when the lumbering brute at the card table caught him staring. “What I want from you is to be more of a… companion to me. I find myself dragged into conflicts more than I’d like to admit, and while I am more than capable of taking care of myself, I thought it might be prudent to employ some help. I don’t have any destination in mind. I don’t need you to escort me like chattel. I just want to accompany you and count on you for aid should the need arise.”

As if this Drow couldn’t get stranger. Silva stared at him, searching his odd, comely face for any sign that he was lying. It had to be a trap, right? Or some sort of deception. Silva had heard the Drow bred themselves to be pretty to make duplicity easier for them. Who spent so much gold on hiring a traveling companion? 

“I have work to do,” Silva said, resting his hands on the tabletop. “I have bounties to collect. You say you can take care of yourself but what guarantee do I have that you can protect yourself while I’m on a job?” 

Chrollo cocked his head and blinked slowly like a cat. He leaned forward, off his chair to loom into Silva’s space. “Trust me,” he whispered, Silva’s attention stolen by the way the Drow formed the words with his full lips. “I won’t be what slows you down.” 

The moisture disappeared from Silva’s mouth. The rumors he’d heard of Drow, the ones he had studiously avoided thinking, roared between his ears unbidden.  _ They’re so tight,  _ one bawling drunkard had bellowed during one of Silva’s tavern stays.  _ Soft skin, hot mouths, tight, tight, tight. If you can get past the thought of what you’re fucking, you’ll never regret the nights you keep one in your bed.  _

“Are you amenable to that?” Chrollo continued, shattering Silva’s reverie by batting his eyes in a way that Silva distrusted immediately. “If not, I’ll have to ask that you return my money.”

He leaned back instantly. Was it worth it? He couldn’t say he wasn’t at least interested in this strange, pretty Drow. The weight against his thigh was too much to ignore and he would be loath to lose it now when he’d only just gotten it. “There will be rules,” Silva growled out, meeting the Drow’s eyes carefully. 

Business. This was just business as usual. Nothing more. 

Chrollo sat back in his seat with a self-satisfied smile. “But of course.” He looked too happy. It just made Silva’s gut burn hotter. 

“I expect them to be followed to the letter.”

“Naturally,” the Drow murmured. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Silva gritted his teeth. “Else I’ll take your money and leave you in the woods.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Chrollo said with a smile. He clapped his hands in front of him and cocked his head. “With that settled, I think there’s only one more thing left to do.”

Silva was getting a headache already. “And what would that be?” he asked, running a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. He should have taken up the offer for a drink. How long had it been since he had last traveled with another? This job better be worth the pay. 

Instead of answering him, Chrollo just raised a hand and pointed somewhere over Silva’s shoulder, that damnable smile still on his face. “Well, it would appear that I’ve been found out,” he said cheerfully. And when Silva followed his hand, he saw that the card game had been abandoned, the men approaching their table with weapons in hand and foul looks on their faces. 

“I think it best if you get to protecting me,” Chrollo said, making a little shooing motion with his fingers as he settled in with his mug of tea. “I did just pay you, after all.” 

As Silva stood, wrapping his hand around the wrapped handle of his axe, he tried to swallow back the instinctive urge to lash out at his newest employer. This was definitely not worth the money.


	2. Chapter One

When it came to bar fights, Chrollo had a couple of rules of thumb. They were simple rules, really. Almost more like universal truths than actual guidelines he expected to meet. The first was to avoid them at any costs, the next to get out as quickly as possible. When both of those failed, he had only one rule left to deal with the aftermath: Don’t fall asleep anywhere without a lock. 

This rule had come about over the course of the past month, and if Chrollo were asked why, he would have to answer that it was frankly just common sense. Bar fights lead to grudges. Grudges lead to ambushes. Perhaps it wasn’t the same for conflicts between surface dwellers, but Chrollo had walked these grassy lands far too long to trust that anyone up here might stay their hand should they find him defenceless and vulnerable in some field or communal area. 

It was because of all of those reasons that when Silva limped his way out of the bar, Chrollo in tow, and decided to make camp in some clearing not even a stone’s throw from the wrecked bar, Chrollo had vehemently put down his foot and told him in the kindest possible way to think again. 

“Oh, it’ll be  _ fine _ ,” Chrollo muttered under his breath, sitting with his back against a tree so he could keep an eye on as much of the makeshift camp as possible. “You worry too much. No one would walk the five minutes towards the woods to kill the Drow lurking in their midst.”

Silva let out a muffled snore, not awake but somehow still seeming to know that he was being mocked. The hunter had collapsed into his bedroll the moment they stopped moving, a bit bloodied around the knuckles but boasting not a single injury of his own. Chrollo had no idea what to think of this man he had attached himself to, but at the very least he worried him an idiot if he fell asleep so easily after downing half the bar’s men in a fist fight started on Chrollo’s behalf. 

Chrollo sighed, closing his eyes to the darkness that seemed as bright as day. It had been hours since they had settled down to rest. Hours of nothing but hooting owls, rustling leaves, and the other performers in the night’s orchestra. Exhaustion didn’t cling so heavily to Chrollo’s bones as it did to Silva’s, but he could admit to the day taking its toll on him regardless. It was hard to brush off instinct and caution. This new world above the loam didn’t trust him, and Chrollo would be hard-pressed to trust it in return. 

Silva was shifting now, his breath coming a little faster. Probably on the verge of waking up, if Chrollo had to hazard a guess. Silva was definitely the first human to lower his guard so easily in front of him. Trusting a Drow to sleep at his side. What an odd man he was. Odd, but waking. Chrollo bundled himself tighter in his cloak, finally letting himself give in to the sleepiness tugging at his eyelids. It was an unspoken guard shift, but it was enough to help him relax enough to rest. 

There was a resounding of pops and cracks as Silva forced himself up, and then the shifting of fabric as he stood. Chrollo slowed his breathing and let the quiet sounds soothe him, proof as they were of Silva being awake. 

He was on the verge of sleep when he felt Silva’s eyes on him. Chrollo kept his breathing slow, trying not to let it bother him. He had just been watching Silva too, so fair was fair he supposed. Grass crunched and Silva let out a tired sigh. “Still asleep? Figures.”

Well, that was a little rude, all things considered. A flush of light teased Chrollo’s eyelids as Silva stirred the dying fire. Its warmth teased Chrollo. It would be alright to sleep now, right? Just for a few hours. Silva made no move to shake him to his feet, so Chrollo took it as a yes. 

The soft breeze teasing through his hair made it all too easy to give in. Chrollo drifted off, chin tucked against his chest, letting Silva do whatever it was he did when he woke up. With his eyes closed, it seemed like Silva was pacing. Perhaps he was cleaning up the camp? The quiet hiss of a drawstring being opened was nearly buried in the shifting and cracking of the fire. 

Chrollo’s ears twitched at the sound of clinking glass. That was an odd sound to be hearing now. Did Silva have some in his bag? It was hard to imagine given the man’s work that he might carry something like that around with him. Chrollo did and he could attest to it being one of the more challenging things to keep from being jostled, especially in fights. Silva was muttering to himself, his voice tugging Chrollo from his doze. 

“Gotta be something here,” the hunter was saying under his breath, punctuated by another round of clinking glass and furtive, shifting sounds. “Where are you from, brat? You have to have something on you.”

Who was he talking to? The only one here was Chrollo, and there was no way… He opened his eyes, angry beyond words. Chrollo looked through the darkness, knowing instinctively what he would find in front of him. Silva was on his knees, wrist deep in Chrollo’s satchel. Brow furrowed and mouth tight, the human looked intently into the depths of Chrollo’s bag, rooting around inside as if he had a right to invade a person’s privacy any time he so chose. 

What did he think he would find in there? Chrollo narrowed his eyes and let his hand fall to his thigh, fingers brushing over the six daggers sheathed in their small pockets. He pulled one loose and palmed it, letting his cloak fall to the ground in a silent heap. Silva was holding one of the small vials up to the wane light, taking in the clear liquid inside. He was going to get himself killed if he didn’t stop rooting around in things not his. 

In one swift motion, Chrollo stood just behind Silva. With one hand he snatched up the vial, and in the other he held the small dagger to Silva’s throat. Silva went stiff, his hands letting go of the bag to let it fall roughly to the ground. 

“Good morning, Silva,” Chrollo murmured, turning the blade to follow the movements of Silva’s head when he twisted slowly to meet Chrollo’s eye. “This isn’t how I envisioned our first day starting.”

Silva managed a tense smile, and in the next moment, had Chrollo’s wrist seized in his iron grip. He yanked hard and threw Chrollo off balance, but Chrollo rolled with the fall and took Silva down with him. The dagger and vial fell harmlessly to the grass, narrowly avoiding being crushed in the scuffle. 

“What do you think you’re doing, brat?” Silva hissed, using his considerably size to his advantage. Chrollo was fast but it didn’t mean much when off his feet. Silva snatched up his other wrist, rolling himself to hold Chrollo down with his body. He was warm, nearly burning against Chrollo’s skin. After nearly a month of being on his own, Chrollo could barely handle the proximity. 

“W-what do you think  _ you’re  _ doing?” Chrollo gasped, shelving that thought for never. He tugged at his wrists but, failing to free himself, met Silva’s eyes instead. His face felt so warm. He hoped the human couldn’t tell. “I certainly didn’t pay you for this.” 

Silva gritted his teeth at that. “You attacked me,” the human grunted, as if that excuse was justification enough for pinning his employer. 

“You were digging through my things,” Chrollo bit, narrowing his eyes into a pointed glare. “Is this how you treat all of your clients? Get off me before I hurt you.” 

Scoffing, Silva did just that, letting go of his wrists first and then climbing off of Chrollo. The moment he could, Chrollo sat up and rubbed at his wrists, feeling bruises already beginning to bloom. “You couldn’t hurt me,” the mercenary muttered, leveling himself onto his feet to go kick out the meager fire, extinguishing the thought of breakfast with it. “Fucking brat.”

What a pompous ass. “I heard that,” Chrollo said, grabbing his bag and checking inside, making sure everything was safe and accounted for. His clothes were a bit rumpled, his poison vials out of order, but thankfully none of them had been cracked by Silva’s rough touch. Biting his lip, he pushed them all to the side, ignoring the disorganization for the moment. Was it still safe? Chrollo dipped his fingers past the flat inner pocket, feeling for the hard shape hidden just out of sight. 

“I didn’t take anything,” Silva said, jolting Chrollo from his thoughts. “So if you’d like to get your shit together, I think it’s past time we get moving.” Chrollo looked up and Silva glared back down at him, his bag and weapon already shouldered. All that was missing was his foot tapping to show that he thought Chrollo was wasting his time.  

“I don’t appreciate being spoken down to,” Chrollo muttered, gathering up his bag and bedroll, wrapping himself in his cloak. The morning was cool, if it could even be called morning yet. Darkness still outweighed the light, but if Silva thought himself able to see enough to progress, then who was Chrollo to argue? The grass was still slick with dew. Shouldering his bag, Chrollo wrapped his arms around himself, glaring at the human. 

“You paid for protection, not conversation,” the hunter grunted, stomping out the remains of the fire. 

“I paid for a partnership,” Chrollo interjected, walking in front of the hunter to glare at him properly. “Not for you to treat me like an idiot you can push around.” 

Silva laughed. “I work alone, brat,” he said, shaking his head as he shouldered his large axe. “No amount of money can buy yourself a place as my partner. You’re a tagalong, if anything. I don’t plan on restructuring my life around you, so get used to being disappointed.”

Maybe embroiling Silva in a bar fight so soon after meeting hadn’t been the best way to endear himself to the hunter. Chrollo frowned and kicked at the dirt, letting the conversation die.

At least the rest of the world wasn’t as inhospitable. Chrollo could travel the surface three times over and still never quite quantify the amount of green the world held. Burgeoning light climbed up the far horizon, painting the sky with pinks, golds, and purples, the sun warming his chilled skin in a comforting wave. Birds sang, insects chirped, and despite the clinging, lingering darkness, morning took root as it always did. Chrollo smiled softly as he walked, counting out his footfalls in time to his breaths. Not even the hunter’s sourness could spoil the joy he felt in the wake of all before him. There really was nothing quite like this down below. The Underdark stole its color where it could get it, but up here, beneath the sun, the surface overflowed with abundance. 

Not many of his kind ever saw this kind of beauty. Chrollo had to wonder how many of them cared, or if they even thought about the loss. Probably not many. 

The sun had risen high in the sky by the time Silva saw fit to break the silence his rudeness had imposed. 

“So,” he began, startling Chrollo from his thoughts with a gruff voice. “What is a Drow doing above ground anyway?”

Chrollo wrinkled his nose and held tighter to the strap of his satchel.“You sound like you’ve been holding that in for a while now,” he observed, noting how Silva’s jaw went tighter. “Did your little rummage through my clothing not give you the answers you wanted?” The human didn’t balk though, holding his head high and glaring back at Chrollo without much heat. Defensive, really. Chrollo wondered how used to company Silva was. 

“I’d think anyone would be curious,” the man said, hefting his axe higher onto his broad shoulder. The metal shined dully in the mid-morning sun, the worn engravings along the head Dwarven in design. “I can count the times I’ve seen a Drow on one hand and still have fingers left over. You’re a rarity up here.”

“Careful,” Chrollo sighed, “or you’ll make me blush.”

“Just answer the question”. He slowed his quick pace a little, angling towards Chrollo once they were abreast of one another. “You wanted to travel with me. The least you can do is be a little forthcoming about yourself.”

Chrollo raised a brow. “And how forthcoming have you been, Hunter Zoldyck? I hardly know much about you outside of your reputation. Why don’t you give a little first, break the ice as they say.”

“There isn’t much to say,” Silva said in a way that told Chrollo he was purposefully being obstinate. “I’m a hunter. I go around hunting bounties.”

“Yeah, but where are you from?”

“Around,” Silva grunted.

Chrollo frowned. “How old are you?” he tried asking, crossing his arms. “I can’t tell if you’re old or not. You humans age so weirdly.”

“You can’t tell?” Silva laughed a little, giving him an odd sort of look. “I guess I can’t tell your age either. I’m forty.”

Only forty? Chrollo cocked his head in disbelief. “That’s not old at all. I’m way older than you if that’s it,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he thought on it. “Is that old to you?” How long did humans live, anyway? It would be a problem if he just wasted his money on a human who would keel over if a stiff breeze rolled through. It would probably be too late for a refund at that point. What a bother. 

Silva shifted his pack higher onto his shoulder, letting out a tired sigh. “It’s old enough to feel. Are you going to answer my question now, or are you content to bother me about my age for awhile longer?” 

“Why?” he chuckled, nudging Silva’s arm with his own. “Are you sensitive about it?”

“Don’t get cocky, brat. I’ll knock that grin off your face in a heartbeat,” the hunter warned, cold blue eyes flashing dangerously in the bright morning light. 

Chrollo couldn’t help it. He laughed into his hand. “You are!” he exclaimed, dodging the wide swipe Silva made for him easily. “You’re so sensitive. What a treat. It’s good to know I didn’t hire a gargoyle instead of a partner. What a waste of money that would have been.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that we aren’t partners until it sticks?” Silva said stonily, stomping off ahead of Chrollo, making him jog a little to catch up. “You aren’t working with me. The way I see it, you’re just a brat I have to put up with until you get bored of this.”

This again? “There’s not much you can to if you don’t plan on working with me,” Chrollo huffed, glaring at the man’s broad back. “I’m not going to just sit patiently and wait for you if you feel like running off to chase a bounty.”

“You will if you expect to keep traveling with me. There are rules I expect to be followed. Rules you agreed to abide by when I took your money.” Silva eyes were heavy when they landed on Chrollo. “I’m in charge. What I say goes, and that means that if I tell you to sit and wait for me to finish a job, you will sit where I point and stay. I’m not a babysitter. I’ll leave you behind if you can’t keep up. I’ll ditch you if you refuse to listen.”

“I can see why you don’t do these sorts of jobs more often,” Chrollo scoffed, sending a stray pinecone flying with an annoyed kick. It soared up ahead, skidding along the dirt and grass and disappearing in a patch of weeds. “You’re actually a beast, aren’t you? No concept of proper etiquette in you.”

“I don’t want to hear that from a Drow.” Chrollo startled a little when another pinecone went shooting past him, traveling far further than his own had. He turned and stared at the smug looking hunter. Silva didn’t grin, but it was a close thing. “And there are more rules. No sassing me, is another. Don’t test my patience. Don’t try to get chummy with me. I’m not being paid to be your friend.”

Chrollo grimaced. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he simpered, batting his lashes just to make the human scowl. “I wouldn’t dream of befriending a man like you. Even I, a dastardly Drow, have better taste than that.” 

Silva’s face was hilarious, frozen in some mixture of shock and anger as it was. Chrollo laughed and kicked another pinecone, nearly tripping when a hand snatched him by the collar and yanked him back before the kick could connect. “What did I say about sassing?” Silva asked tersely, holding Chrollo by the scruff like a disobedient cat. “I’ll charge you a fee for every infraction. Don’t think I won’t.”

Chrollo shrugged his hand off his collar, fixing his cloak around his shoulders with a frown. The cool air teased his bare shoulders beneath it, and he hurriedly covered back up, the morning air too crisp for that just yet. “As if I couldn’t afford it,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “How much would I have to pay to change your temperament entirely? Another hundred? Two?” He shot Silva an unimpressed look. “You don’t intimidate me. If you think that’s how you’re going to deal with me, you’re very mistaken.”

“Rich brats like you are exactly why I have rules in the first place.” Silva upped the pace even more, passing Chrollo with nary a backwards glance. “You think you can do what you want, that nothing applies to you so long as you’ve enough money to throw at the problem until is disappears.”

“I’m not rich,” Chrollo shot, jogging after him, refusing to be left behind. 

“Then how did you get the money to pay me?” Silva slowed up a little, but not much. His curiosity seemed to do it, or his disbelief at least. “Did you steal it?”

Chrollo held his bag closer to his side. “I’ve things to sell,” he said stiffly, dearly wishing Silva would drop it. 

A pale brow raised. “So you did steal it,” he chuckled. “Leave it to a Drow to pay me in stolen coin. No wonder it was real gold.”

“Excuse you,” Chrollo shot, stopping in his tracks. “My lover likes to spoil me, and a lot of the gifts he gives are worth a lot of money. Some pawnshops don’t care where they get their wares, even if that means dealing with a Drow. So stop making assumptions about me. You don’t know anything about me.”

Silva gave him a look, one that Chrollo wasn’t quite sure he liked. “Sounds like quite a lover.”

“He is. He’s a far more impressive man than you are.” Chrollo looked at the dirt, at the rocks along the road. “He’s skinned men alive for daring to look at me, let alone speak to me the way you’re doing now.” Silva gave a mirthless laugh, not intimidated in the least. “Why did you leave if you had all of that down below?” he asked. “Seems to me I’d stay down where my lover has all the power instead of trusting all my safety to some rude human hunter.”

This really was the last thing Chrollo wanted to be discussing today. “Because for all the gifts he’s given me, he still doesn’t seem to understand what I really want,” Chrollo said sharply. “Can we change the subject? I don’t want to talk about him right now.” Not to some human who looked at him so judgmentally. “And what of you? Do you just go around killing people for money, then? Don’t judge me for how I get my coin when you took it eagerly enough.”

“I don’t kill them unless it’s more profitable,” Silva said, failing to rise to his bait. “And it’s almost never more profitable. I’m no saint, brat. I don’t care where you get your gold so long as its real.”

Chrollo took in Silva’s rugged appearance. The way he moved was slow but purposeful, no waste or excess to his stride to suggest he ever did things that went against his habits. It showed conviction. Intent. Silva caught him staring and returned it evenly, his jaw going a little tight at whatever it was he saw.

“If you’ve got something to say, then say it,” Chrollo said evenly, wondering what he could be fixated on now. His gaze wasn’t on Chrollo’s body. It stayed upwards, not quite meeting Chrollo’s eyes but close. “Something wrong with my ears?”

“What are your earrings made of?” Silva asked flatly, walking a step closer to Chrollo to get a better view. 

Chrollo frowned, his hand coming up to cover the one closest to Silva. “Why?” he shot back, curling his fingers around it carefully. “What business is it of yours?”

Silva’s look was patently unimpressed. “I’m curious. Humor me.”

“Turquoise,” Chrollo said in a clipped tone, wondering if he shouldn’t have taken them off. No one had bothered to look too closely at them, usually too focused on them rest of him to bother. “They were a gift.”

“From that lover you ran from?” Silva asked, his voice breezy in a way that Chrollo didn’t like one bit. 

Before Chrollo could reply, the sound of muffled voices filtered past them on the wind. Given the distance they had traveled from the last village, Chrollo hadn’t expected to see others on the road, but a look back forwards showed him the outlines of just that up ahead. He wrapped himself all the tighter in his cloak and tugged the hood over his face when Silva gave him a pointed look. Annoying, but probably a good idea to avoid attracting attention. 

Chrollo followed Silva towards the side of the road, giving plenty of room to let the group pass. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business at all,” Chrollo grumbled, crossing his arms to look at Silva, keeping his face away from the people nearly upon them. “I’m not selling them.”

“I wasn’t going to say you should,” Silva said, arching a brow in annoyance. He kept glancing at the oncoming travelers, putting a hand in front of Chrollo to push him behind him, letting the hunter meet them first. There looked to be five of them, adventurers if their weapons were anything to go off of. 

Chrollo glared down at Silva’s hand and pointedly shoved past it, walking at his side nearest to the men. He lowered his voice, but he didn’t bother softening his frustration. “Then what were you going to say?” he asked, ignoring the men even as their voices began to grow closer, their raucous laughter rending the air.

“I don’t know, brat, maybe if you stopped assuming the worst I’d be able to tell you.” Silva glanced at the oncoming men but sighed, moving back to Chrollo. “They’re too fancy to be flaunted like that,” he said, his words muted. “Don’t wear them up here. Or at least take them off when you take off your cloak.”

Chrollo could feel the brush of someone’s cloak against his leg, but he ignored it. “They’re not even that rare,” he argued, gesturing with a hand towards his covered ears. “Don’t people walk around in far fancier things up here? It can’t possibly be that out of place t–”

A hand fixed itself over Chrollo’s mouth before he could finish his tirade. He let out a smothered cry as he was torn from his feet and into the arms of one of the passing men, the others converging like vultures on a corpse to brandish their weapons at Silva. 

Despite Silva’s gruff, cantankerous personality, Chrollo had to give the man credit for being all business when it came down to it. The axe was off his shoulder and swinging before Chrollo had gathered his wits, hewing through one of the bandits as if he were made of paper. The man crumpled in a spray of gore, his companions flinching in the face of Silva’s brutality. 

“What the hell do you want?” Silva shot, brandishing his axe to keep them at bay. “You picked the wrong group to rob if you want an easy mark.”

A chorus of laughter rose up around them. Chrollo struggled, twisting and fighting against the one holding him. “That’s cute,” the man holding him chuckled, punctuating his jeer with a knife against Chrollo’s throat. “Exceedingly cute, but I think we’re going to be the ones getting what we want today. Try to behave, old man. I’d hate to make you watch your little friend here bleed out.” 

“We’ll take your money now,” another said, his long, greasy hair bound into a ponytail at the back of his neck. Chrollo couldn’t see his face from this position, but he had a startling notion that the man was as ugly as his personality suggested. “All of it. Toss it down in the dirt with that axe.”

“That goes for you too,” the one holding Chrollo crooned, his tone painting him as the leader. “Don’t do anything stupid, now. I’ll slit your throat before you have time to regret it if you try.”

Cutthroats and bandits, what mysterious abound on the surface. Chrollo gritted his teeth and tried to keep his face pointed down. “I don’t have any money,” he murmured, tucking his hands beneath his cloak as slowly as he could. 

The leader clicked his tongue, tapping the blade teasingly against Chrollo’s skin. “Somehow I doubt that,” he said. He wrapped his arm around Chrollo and shoved it beneath his cloak, patting along his body as if in search of a money pouch. Chrollo went stock still and flushed, meeting eyes with Silva. Panic was becoming hard to avoid.  

Chrollo’s cloak must have jostled somewhere along the way, because a moment later one of the men was staring at him, his eyes going wide with something more malign than just glee. “Is that… Holy shit, I think it’s a Drow, boss!” the ginger man crowed, his ruddy cheeks flushed with shock. “This geezer is runnin’ around with a fuckin’ Drow!”

The leader let out a grunt of surprise. His hand stopped its groping and he peered around, trying to see beneath Chrollo’s downturned hood. “You’re shitting me,” he breathed. “What the fuck is one of those doing up here?” When he failed to see under the cloak, he resorted to just tearing the hood from Chrollo’s head. Chrollo closed his eyes to the bright light, but the man was already braying out a laugh, his knife tracing Chrollo’s cheek with glee. “So it is!” he declared, and Chrollo opened his eyes when the hand that had been on his hood dropped to his ass, the man groping him roughly, tearing his cloak from his shoulders. “And such a pretty one, too. We don’t see many of you around here, do we, boys?”

There was a general murmur of assent nearly overtaken completely by Silva’s furious growl. “Get away from him,” Silva ordered, his voice so low that it rumbled like thunder. 

All of the blades turned towards Silva but the one aimed at Chrollo’s throat. “Don’t get cocky,” the ginger snapped, his sword pointed at Silva’s spine. “You’re out of your league, old man. Don’t be an idiot.”

“It’s fine, Silva,” Chrollo told him, teeth clenched as the hand moved a little higher, skimming along his bare lower back. “Stand down.”

For a moment, Chrollo didn’t think Silva would listen. He glared daggers at the leader holding Chrollo, his hands tight around the shaft of his axe. Chrollo held his breath and shook his head, imploring him not to get himself killed. Silva closed his eyes tight and let his axe drop to the ground, his shoulders hitched tightly from his barely contained anger. 

The bandit’s hot, rotten breath coated the back of Chrollo’s neck as he laughed. “There’s a good man. Smart of you to stop. Are you paying him, beautiful? Bet you aren’t paying him enough to risk his life for you.” The blade dug into Chrollo’s throat as the man began to drag Chrollo backwards, off the road and towards the forest’s thick embrace. His companions stayed on Silva, keeping him from following. 

“What do you want?!” Chrollo hissed, struggling despite the pain. Blood trickled down his throat but he didn’t care. “I’ve done nothing to you people!”

“Ah, but we happened to overhear you two chatting,” the bandit explained, and when he buried his nose in Chrollo’s hair, breathing in loudly, Chrollo shuddered. “You’ve got some pretty earrings there. Why don’t you be a lamb and hand them over, along with any other valuables you may have?”

“Just do it, Chrollo,” Silva called out, his tone clipped and his fury muted. “We’re outnumbered.”

“You heard him, beautiful,” the bandit laughed, tapping the flat of the blade against his clavicle like a warning. “Listen to the old man and don’t make us do something nasty.”

“My… my lover gave me those,” Chrollo said shortly, staring at the ground. “There’s no way I’m giving them to scum like you.”

The man’s fingers were hot as they toyed with an earring, tugging on it gently in a way that made Chrollo’s ear twitch. “Is that so? A lover who buys you turqouise earrings. Gold mounted too, by the look of it.” He glanced over at Silva with a grin. “Are you the lucky man? You don’t look the type to be able to afford this sort of thing. Or, you know,” he said, his free hand wrapping around Chrollo’s hip in a grip that was far too friendly, “someone like this.”

Silva let out an angry growl, his fists tightening at his sides. “No,” he bit, looking ready to break someone in half. “I’m not the one he’s talking about.”

The leader let out a knowing laugh, squeezing Chrollo’s hip. “That’s certainly interesting, but who am I to judge. Your lover must be awfully worried about you, beautiful. Probably worried sick if you’re expecting someone like this to keep you safe.” The bandits all looked at each other with glee, an unspoken agreement passing from the leader to the others. “A rich lover would pay a pretty penny to have you back too, wouldn’t he? Boys, I think we’ve found something a right side more valuable than a few shiny baubles.”

Chrollo stopped breathing. This was a complete nightmare. “I’ll bite my fucking tongue off before I let you take me,” he swore. Silva was staring, his lips curled into a snarl. “You’re going to die if you don’t let me go right the fuck now.”

“You think so?” the man mused, holding tighter to Chrollo as he addressed his men. “You guys hear that? This little Drow thinks he can kill us.” They all laughed and Chrollo’s mind went blank when a warm, disgusting tongue licked a stripe up his cheek. “Just you try it, kid. Think your lover will mind if we rough you up a little? Pretty as you are, he probably won’t care much so long as you still end up back in his bed.”

They didn’t know Hisoka at all if they thought he would be okay with them breathing Chrollo’s air, let alone touching him. “Your fucking funerals,” Chrollo whispered, narrowing his eyes at Silva. They would only have one shot at this, so he hoped Silva was ready to fight. Chrollo wrenched his head away and stomped down on the bandit’s instep, ripping himself from the man’s arms before he had time to shout, let alone hurt him. 

“What the fuck–”

The bandit went down when Chrollo aimed his next kick for his groin. The others near Silva made a move towards Chrollo, weapons drawn, but Chrollo was in no mood to play. His daggers were in his hands in an instant, snatched up from their customary place on his thighs. 

“You little bitch!” one shouted. “How dare you–” 

Chrollo didn’t bother to wait to hear what he was daring to do. He flung out a dagger and watched it fly, embedding itself in the man’s throat before he made it more than a step away from Silva. Unlike the leader, Chrollo didn’t waste his time on naked blades. The poison worked faster than the penetration. A thick white foam coursed out of the man’s mouth as he dropped like a stone. His companions balked at the sight of his twitching form, but their hesitation just made them easier targets. 

“Silva, feel free to help!” Chrollo spun and threw another dagger, this time hitting the ginger bandit in the thigh. He swore under his breath and backed up, the poison needing longer this time to get to working. A sword pointed at him and Chrollo nearly tripped in his struggle to evade. He closed his eyes and heard a wet, bone-chilling sound. When he opened them, he saw the ginger sans his head, Silva panting over the corpse with his cheeks flecked with blood. 

“You little  _ bitch _ ,” the leader hissed behind Chrollo, rallying from the blow he had already been dealt. He rose up from his pained slump, face contorted with rage. “You think you can just do what you want, a Drow bitch like you? You’ve got another thing coming.”

Poison was too kind of a way for this man to go. That much was clear.

“Take care of the rest of them, Silva,” Chrollo said, not bothering to take his eyes off the man before him. “I’ve got this.”

“Oh, do you?” the leader jeered, his pockmarked cheeks flushing. “Let me see it then. Let me see what you can do.”

Chrollo tossed the dagger aside. He had plenty more where it came from and he wouldn’t need it anyway. Not yet at least. They stared at each other for the span of a breath, and then Chrollo was darting towards him, ducking under the man’s lunging arms to cut away at the distance between them. Brawling was as common as breathing on the dark lit streets of the Underdark. This was nothing new. Evade, distract, strike– Chrollo delivered a sharp blow to the man’s ribs and then struck him beneath the chin, sending him to the ground in a gasping, stunned heap. 

“How’s that?” Chrollo snarled, kicking the man onto his back. He straddled the man’s chest to keep him down. “You like that?” He balled up his hand into a fist, hitting the bandit leader in the nose, feeling the bone break against his knuckles. “You disgusting excuse for a person.” He drew back and hit him again, and again, and then again, losing track in his need to hurt, in his desire to make the man bleed. He though he could drag Chrollo back to the Underdark? He had another thing coming entirely. 

“Chrollo,” a low voice called out from across the road, Silva wiping the blood from his axe on the grass. “Chrollo, you need to stop. He’s unconscious.”

Chrollo pretended not to hear, pulling out another dagger and readying it to slit the man’s throat. 

“Goddammit, Chrollo! I said get off him!” Chrollo bared his teeth and stabbed downwards, the blade just barely kissing the leader’s skin before Chrollo’s hands were torn away. Silva grabbed held him in a grip as  firm as iron bars, refusing to let him kill the disgusting creature between his thighs.

“Get off me, Silva,” Chrollo hissed, trying and failing to shake off the hunter’s grip. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Normally I wouldn’t give a shit what you did with scum like this, but if you want to waste a hundred gold, do it on your own time,” Silva shot, his hands tightening around Chrollo’s wrists and making no move to loosen. He let out a rough breath and lifted Chrollo bodily away from the prone man.

Chrollo protested the moment his feet left the ground. “Let me go!” he ordered, shoving at Silva until he deigned to set him down a few feet away. He ripped himself free of the hunter’s hands and tried to fix his clothing, his breath coming too fast to really calm down. “Don’t do that. And don’t tell me what to do. If I want to kill him, I will!”

Silva loomed over him, crossing his arms in a way that was meant to intimidate. “You won’t,” he argued. “That man has a bounty on his head, Chrollo. One I intend to claim.”

“Then we can turn in his corpse,” Chrollo hissed, refusing to be cowed by a man who did next to nothing that whole fight. 

“And get half the reward? Like hell I’ll let you lose me that much gold.” He dug into his bag for a moment and drew out a crumpled piece of parchment, shoving it against Chrollo’s chest before turning back towards the prone man. “I don’t care if he hurt your pride, or insulted you, or whatever it is you’re feeling. This is business, not vengeance. Learn the fucking difference.” 

Chrollo glared daggers at the hunter but unfolded the parchment, seeing it as the bounty Silva was talking about. It had a vaguely sketched likeness of the man lying in the dirt along with a bulleted list of his various crimes. Thief, highwayman, drunkard, murderer. The list went on and on, punctuated with a large set of numbers that boasted the reward for his capture. It was a lot of gold. Almost as much as Chrollo had blown on hiring Silva. 

Looking up, he saw Silva already binding the man with rope from his bag, looping some sort of manacles around the man’s limp wrists. “And you think that it’s better to just give this man to the authorities than end him for what he just did to us?” he demanded, stomping over to give the unconscious thief a good kick to the ribs. 

“If I held a grudge for every time I had someone try to cut my purse or rob me on the road,” Silva said, looking up with a put upon air about him, “then I would never turn in a single bounty. He’ll get what’s coming to him when I sell him to the sentries. What happens to him after that doesn’t concern me.”

Chrollo bit his lip, the logic of it all warring it out with everything he his mind was telling him to do. “That’s not how Drow do things,” he said quietly, taking a step back as Silva hefted the bandit onto his shoulder, standing up with a muted grunt. “If we were in the Underdark, we would flay him alive for trying to do what he just did.”

“Then I’m glad we’re up here,” Silva huffed, nodding towards his axe still on the ground. “I’d hate to have to deal with the clean up that would entail. Grab my axe, would you? Unless you’d rather carry this guy’s fat ass all the way to the nearest guard post.”

“You’re really doing this,” Chrollo said flatly, his eyes widening when he grabbed the axe and hefted. His muscles strained as he struggled to lift it from the ground, dragging it up and nearly tipping himself over when he tried to settle it on his shoulder the way Silva carried it. How did Silva make it look so easy? This thing had to weigh more than Chrollo did. 

Silva laughed a little, smiling as he watched Chrollo sweat. “I really am,” he said, nodding his head in a seemingly random direction. “Now come on. We need to get away from these bodies and get you someplace off the road.”

Chrollo took a step, and then another. He tried to make a rhythm with his movements to keep him from unbalancing under the foreign weight. “Aren’t we going to the sentries?” he asked. The unconscious bandit was hanging like a limp doll, jaw slack and temple bloodied. What an ugly sight. 

Leading through some tall grass, Silva slowed down a bit so Chrollo could catch up. “No,” he said slowly, enunciating as if speaking to a child. “ _ I  _ am going to the sentries. You’re going to sit your ass down and wait for me to get back.”

The axe thumped to the ground, Chrollo giving up on trying to lug it. “Excuse me?” he asked. “You’re not leaving me behind. I told you that already.”

“And I told  _ you _ that there are rules to this arrangement,” Silva said, turning around to glare at him. He wrinkled his nose irritably when he caught sight of how Chrollo had dropped his weapon. “You think I can just walk up to some armed sentries with you in tow and expect them to hand over gold to me?”

Chrollo felt his lips curl into a pronounced frown. “I’m not a burden for you to abandon at will,” he said, glaring hotly at the hunter. “I held my own against them better than you did. I can keep up with your precious work.”

“This isn’t about that,” Silva said, and Chrollo’s anger stuttered for a moment at the almost begrudgingly proud look Silva wore. “You held your own. I was surprised by it, sure, but you did. That’s why I’m not throwing a fit about leaving you alone here. But I’m serious. I can’t walk up to some sentries with a Drow. They’d kill you on sight and then move on to me for not doing it myself the moment I saw you.”

The grass was thick beneath his feet. Thick and green and speckled with wildflowers. Chrollo stared down at it as his ears burned. Praise was the last thing he expected to hear up here, let alone from someone like Silva. He looked up when Silva cleared his throat impatiently. Chrollo swallowed. He didn’t want to stay behind. He didn’t, but it wasn’t a bad call to make. 

“Fine,” Chrollo sighed, plopping himself down onto a patch of soft grass. “Don’t think this is going to be a common thing, though. I’m not going to let you leave me behind all the time.”

“Whatever, brat.” Silva bounced the man higher up onto his shoulder reached down for the fallen axe, navigating it onto his back. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” he said en lieu of a goodbye, turning on his heel and making off towards the road. 

He was acting like he knew well enough where he was going. Hopefully that it wouldn’t be a long wait. Chrollo watched him leave, letting out a breath once he disappeared over a hill. 

Waiting had never been Chrollo’s forte. He wasn’t patient and he wasn’t accustomed to being kept waiting. For a moment, he pondered following Silva anyway, but in the end he decided against it. As rude as Silva had been in saying it, the fact that the sentries would kill him on sight wasn’t an exaggeration. Being on the surface had taught Chrollo a few things, and near the top of that list was not to trust people to be kind when they had no reason to be, especially to someone like him.

It was just so boring to sit here. Chrollo kicked at the dirt and let out a sigh, throwing himself down onto his back to stare at the clouds as they rolled by. That at least was something novel, the clouds. He had never really seen them before this trip to the surface. They looked unbelievably soft, like spun spidersilk wound in airy little tufts. Chrollo reached up a hand as if he could touch them, smiling to himself. If he managed to hold one, he doubted it would feel like spidersilk. That was something for below. The sky deserved better. 

Hours passed slowly, Chrollo giving in to the urge to doze. Lights danced behind his eyes, the soft breeze rolling over his bare skin like a cool, considerate touch. He shivered a little and bit his lip, rolling onto his shoulder as if he could shake off the thought. His hips ached a little from Silva’s rough grip, his shoulder from the bandit’s yanking. It seemed like every touch he got up here was mean. Every touch but the wind’s. What was Hisoka doing right now, he wondered. Chrollo didn’t need to wonder much on what he would be doing if Chrollo were still there. 

It took awhile, but Silva arrived without much fanfare eventually. He made his presence known loudly enough to jostle Chrollo from his partial rest, at any rate. Silva stomped his way into the makeshift camp, axe balanced on his empty shoulder and a weariness about him that looked a bit more pronounced than what a simple hike should have prompted. 

Chrollo sat up straight and looked at him. “Did it go alright?” he asked. “Did he stay out the whole time?”

“Unfortunately,” Silva said, rolling his eyes. “I would’ve made him walk himself there if he had. Lazy bastard.” He grumbled under his breath like the cantankerous man he was, approaching Chrollo. As he walked, he reached into his pocket, pulling something out that was nearly hidden in his large hand. 

“Here,” Silva grunted, dropping a small pouch into Chrollo’s lap. It jingled when it landed, heavier than he expected it to be.

“What is this?” he asked lifting it up. He tugged at the drawstrings as Silva took in the grass around them, tossing down his bag and then himself with a groan of exhaustion. The pouch opened up and the sunlight reflected off the gold in a blinding display. Chrollo’s jaw fell open. 

“Your cut,” Silva called out from his slumped spot, dragging his bag under his head as a pillow. “For the bounty.”

“My cut? I get some?” he breathed. “But I thought this was your job, not mine.”

Silva grunted and rolled onto his shoulder, turning his back to Chrollo. “Yeah, well, you took down those men. It’d leave a bad taste in my mouth if I took all the reward for a job I didn’t fuckin’ do.” He sounded rueful, as if he hadn’t expected Chrollo to be capable in a fight. “Now, shut up. Don’t say anything about it. I’m going to take a nap. Keep watch, would you?”

“Yeah,” Chrollo laughed, emptying the pouch out into his hand. As the money settled in his cupped palms, Chrollo had to smile. “No problem.”

Perhaps this arrangement could work after all. 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw in this one

It was strange, stranger than strange, having to restructure his life around Chrollo. 

Silva had never made it a point or a habit to travel with groups. It had been longer than he could recall since the last time he had bothered working alongside another, even longer still since he had willingly welcomed the assistance. Chrollo’s skills weren’t shabby, and they even tended to aid in capturing marks with less risk than Silva’s usual methods. They were making more money than they knew how to spend, if they were anywhere close to a place to spend it, and Silva had to begrudgingly admit that none of it would be possible without the Drow’s quick wit and hidden knives. 

Even with all of that factoring in, Silva still couldn’t quite swallow the stab of surprise he felt every single time he turned around, thinking himself alone, only to find the Drow tagging dutifully along behind him. It was one thing for the closeness while they were hiking. It was another thing entirely when Silva was consulting the map. 

“Shit,” he cursed, jumping when he caught sight of Chrollo out of the corner of his eye. The Drow was peering over his shoulder, his breath tickling the back of Silva’s neck. Silva shoved away and glared at Chrollo, hastily folding the map back up. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Chrollo had the audacity to raise a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “You were taking so long, so I thought I might come over and help you,” he explained, rolling his eyes. “At first I thought you had forgotten how to read, but I guess you’re just slow today. Took you ages to notice me, but then again, you’re pretty old for a human.” He smiled like the brat he was. “Maybe it’s just to be expected.”

He easily dodged the swipe Silva threw at him, dancing back with a grin on his perfect face. “Oh, come on now, Silva,” he laughed, avoiding the half-hearted blows with ease. “It’s just a joke.”

“What’s got you so unbearably bubbly today?” Silva asked, still stalking towards the Drow, map clenched in his hand. He didn’t know what he would do if he caught Chrollo, but that was hardly reason enough not to try. 

Chrollo hooked a hand around the narrow base of a sapling, using it to spin himself out of Silva’s range. His every move looked like a dance, as smooth and as skillful as his speech. “What’s not to be happy about?” he asked, smiling brightly. “The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and you’re still as grumpy as ever. Not to mention the thick stack of money we have now. It’s exciting! I’ve never earned money before.”

Silva paused, gaping a little. “What do you mean you’ve never earned money before?” How did that even make sense? “Aren’t you older than me? How did you survive?”

Jumping onto a fallen log, Chrollo threw out his hands and walked along it like a child balancing on a beam. “Stealing, mostly,” he said, looking over his shoulder and keeping balance easily. “Hisoka took care of the rest after I met him. It’s novel, isn’t it? It feels rather nice knowing I’ve earned something the way everyone else earns things.”

Silva didn’t have the heart to tell him that not many people made their livings by killing or capturing other people. When it came down to it, the how didn’t really matter. He could let the brat have his moment. “Yeah, well,” he began, unfurling the map and going back to his previous task, “good on you. It’s going to be a lot of work if you want to keep at it. Apprehending them is the easy part. It’s finding them that takes time.” Not to mention building information networks, laying traps, and all the other myriad facets of the job Silva hated to think about right now. 

Chrollo skipped off of the log and landed with nary a sound, moving back towards him as quietly as the wind whispering through the treetops. “I’m glad I’ve got you to learn from then,” he said cocking his head as he looked at the map over Silva’s arm. “Where are we going next? Do you know?”

Shrugging, Silva’s eyes wandered along the parchment. There were a few villages within a day’s hike, but none big enough to boast a bounty board. “Wherever there might be work,” he said, chewing the inside of his cheek. The Drow’s soft scent filled his senses, Chrollo standing too close but not seeming to care. 

“No leads?” he murmured, his hand resting on Silva’s forearm as he peered at the map too. 

Silva couldn’t focus on the map with Chrollo touching him. His small hand was a negligible weight on his arm, the curve of his pointed ear peeking out from behind his dark, silky hair. “No,” Silva said gruffly, tearing his gaze away from the Drow and back onto the map. “We need to head towards a bigger town, but there aren’t any within a day or two of here. It’s just a matter of picking which one to aim for.”

“Oh,” Chrollo murmured, letting go of Silva’s arm. “If that’s how it is…”

The map was gone before Silva processed it had been stolen from him, Chrollo’s sleight of hand too quick for the eye to follow. He made a grab for it, but Chrollo just darted out of the way, unfurling the parchment with a wave of his hand. 

“You… You brat,” he snarled, chasing after Chrollo. It was aggravating how the Drow didn’t even need to look up to evade him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, since you don’t know where to take us next, I figure it’s only fair that I be the one to pick,” Chrollo answered, spinning around with a smile, tapping at the map’s wrinkled surface. “It’s all the same to you, isn’t it? You only had the one bounty, so there’s no point in heading towards any one area in particular.”

“That’s not the point,” he growled, taking another swipe but catching nothing but air between his fingers. How was Chrollo so fast? “You don’t get to call the shots. That’s my job.”

Chrollo hummed, smiling at him like the brat he was. “Ah, but I’m helping you with your work now. It’s only fair that I get a turn,” he said, hopping back up onto his log to balance and read at the same time. Like this, Silva couldn’t easily reach him. Not unless he wanted to risk falling on his face trying. 

“Fine,” Silva grunted, throwing his hands up in the air. Better to give the brat what he wanted than risk looking like a fool trying to stop him. “Pick a damn town.” Not like it mattered much anyway. 

The Drow laughed and shot him a grin, one that didn’t smart as much as it could have given he had gotten his way. He perched himself on the edge of the log and looked at the map, tracing lines and paths with his fingertip as he did. Silva sighed and stared up at the sun through the trees. Everything was calm for the moment, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t hurry and get a move on. 

“You almost done, brat?” he asked, raising a brow as Chrollo peered at him from over the top of the map. “We don’t have all day.”

“I think so,” Chrollo answered, turning the map around to face him. His long, dark finger pointed at a small speck of black on the left, a good three day hike from their present location. “This is Mardeau, right? I’ve heard good things about the merchants here. It’s probably big enough to have bounties, right?”

Silva leaned in and looked closer. He had heard of the town before but never been there himself. It probably did have what they needed, as well as being a large enough town to have a decently sized rumor mill. Running his hand through his hair, Silva sighed, giving Chrollo a look. “Yeah, I think that will work,” he said, holding out his hand for the map. “Get down from there. We need to head out.”

Chrollo rolled up the map and handed it over, hopping down beside him with a cheerful expression. “So impatient,” he murmured, hitching the strap of his bag higher up on his shoulder. “Lead the way. I’m ready to go when you are.”

Glancing up at the sky again, Silva let out a sigh, shouldering his own bag and hiding the map away. “Yeah, let’s move,” he said, heading west, tearing himself away from the thick clouds off in the distance. 

So long as they made good progress today, it wouldn’t matter where they went. 

–-

Letting the Drow pick was the worst decision Silva had ever made.

“Move faster, brat!” he shouted over the wind, grabbing Chrollo by the shoulder and shoving him forward, the clouds overhead churning more and more with every passing second. The rain wasn’t threatening to fall so much as it was readying itself, stray flecks of moisture cutting through the wind to warn them to hurry. It promised to be one hell of a storm. 

And Chrollo, the complete idiot, seemed to think it a better idea to gawk and watch the clouds roll in than move towards shelter.

“Hey, don’t shove!” Chrollo complained, pouting as he wrapped his cloak around him and tried to move through the oncoming wind. His hair was a mess of inky tangles, the wind whipping it in his face and over his eyes. “Where are we going? Do you know?”

Silva grimaced and put himself in front of Chrollo, acting as a windbreak so the Drow wouldn’t be swept away, cloak and all. “Of course,” he shouted, though he really didn’t. Chrollo had pointed them off in a direction away from any near villages, and Silva had never traveled these parts before. It certainly didn’t look as if there were any homes nearby, no man made structures from which to barter shelter for the night. 

He let out a scoff that was lost in the cry of the wind. As if they would be able to barter shelter with Chrollo being what he was. That left them either the forest, a markedly bad idea, or the open air. Both were awful prospects. There was no winning when the choices were be crushed by falling trees or be pelted by rain and hail all night. 

A tug on his sleeve had him looking down, Chrollo at his side. Be it the rain or the wind, Silva didn’t know, but the Drow looked far younger than what he was. “I think there’s a cave near here,” he said, Silva reading his lips more than hearing him. “I saw it on the map.” He pointed out a hand towards the west and tugged at Silva’s sleeve.   

A cave? Silva didn’t remember seeing that on the map, but with the wind and rain as hard as it was, it would be idiotic to try and check it now. He bit his lip and looked at the sky, seeing no break in the clouds in sight. “Lead the way,” he shouted, knowing it would be better than nothing. They had no other options. Chrollo nodded his head and set off, only bowled over a little from the force of the wind. He seemed confident, which was assuring somewhat. With the weather like this, Silva would take any optimism he could get. 

Within twenty or so minutes, the sky turned from gray to an eerie sort of orange, the clouds backlit by the sun as the teasing, light rain continued to spit at them from on high. Chrollo kept moving, guiding them forward, occasionally pausing to look in either direction before carrying on. If Silva had any clue what he were looking for, he might have helped. It was a bit hellish having to sit back and follow, especially when he had no idea if Chrollo knew where he was going. 

Another ten minutes of walking and the rain stopped teasing them. A crack of thunder echoed overhead, tearing through the air with strength enough to jostle them both. The mud turned rocky, the dark, orange-tinged light revealing a rocky outcrop a quarter mile to their left. It wasn’t huge, certainly no mountain, but as the only landmark in sight, Silva welcomed it all the same. He wrapped an arm around Chrollo and practically carried him forward, searching for the break in the dark stone that might prove to the be the cave Chrollo had spoken about. 

“Hey!” Chrollo squirmed, fighting the hand around his waist. “I can run on my own!”

Silva opened his mouth to snap at him, but another peal of thunder cut him off. It wasn’t worth wasting breath on, he decided, tightening his grip and charging forward. Chrollo grasped his arm in shock and held tight as his feet left the ground. The moment the distance between them and the rocky hill closed, Silva set him back down, eyes narrowed through the rain for any sign of shelter. 

They found it just as the rain began to come down in sheets as opposed to the light trickling that had been with them so far. It was nestled between the eastern facing side of the stone formation, entrance nearly obscured by bushes and thorny bramble. It looked like the sort of place a dragon might call home, but Chrollo was already racing towards it, hood held on his head by a hand as he ran off. Silva let out a groan and began to run too. There wasn’t much time to check for beasts or animals, and Silva made sure to go first as they ran beneath the outcropping of rock, ducking inside just as the torrent opened up behind them. 

Chrollo let out a peal of laughter, the sound nearly lost in a rumble of thunder in the distance. He wiped the water from his eyes and tossed his bag down, plopping down beside it. “That was close,” he said, slicking back his hair with a smile. “Are we going to stay here for the night then?”

Silva couldn’t bring himself to be so chipper. He threw down his own bag and stared into the darkness at the back of the cave, trying to listen for the telltale sounds of kobolds or mountain lions or any of the hundreds of things that could be lurking inside a random cave. Axe in hand, he narrowed his eyes, barely able to see five feet ahead of him, let alone into the rest of the inner darkness. 

“There’s nothing back there,” a voice whispered in his ear, and Silva jumped for the second time that day, nearly dropping his axe. He whipped around and glared at Chrollo, wondering how the Drow could be so light on his feet. 

“How can you tell?” he demanded. “It’s as black as pitch.”

Chrollo raised a brow and tapped at his temple. “Drow? I live beneath the ground, Silva. I can see in the dark.” He rolled his eyes and turned away, sitting back down beside his bag after kicking aside a few rocks. “We should build a fire, right? It’s chilly in here.”

Silva let out his breath, loosening his hold on his axe. “Yeah,” he agreed. They were fortunate that the inner part of the cave was littered with dried brush and broken branches, probably swept in by winds from other storms. Propping his axe against a near wall, Silva set to gathering up enough for a fire, building it near enough to the entrance to filter out smoke but deep enough to avoid the inevitable water. With a few strikes of his flint, they had a fire blazing, filling the cave with its warmth and light. 

“That’s better,” Chrollo sighed, scooting close to the fire to warm his hands. “It’s so damp in here. Reminds me too much of the Underdark.”

Damp and cold was right. Silva shrugged off his fur-lined cloak, tucking it under him to spare him from a night of sleeping on the heat-sapping stone. “Can’t say I’ve ever been,” he grunted, debating whether or not he should kick off his boots as well. It would be more comfortable, but some part of him had trouble shaking the worry that they could be ambushed while asleep. 

Chrollo didn’t seem to have any such compunction. He tugged off his tall boots and rested them beside his pack, casting off his own cloak to bare his shoulders completely. Silva couldn’t help but stare. “You’re lucky for that,” the Drow muttered, stretching like a cat, all lithe muscle and careless grace. Even rain spattered as he was, it was hard to think of him as anything but beautiful. “It’s awful. Boring and cold and you can’t trust a single soul you meet.”

If Silva were being honest, that sounded like half the towns he had visited in the last few months. All the port cities were like that, though perhaps not quite as cold as Chrollo meant. He nodded along, reaching for his canteen. “Any place you Drow call home must be a special sort of hell.” 

Chrollo laughed a bit wryly. He folded his legs and propped up his elbow with a knee, resting his chin in his palm. He looked out at the rain wistfully. “You can say that again.”

When Silva managed to find his canteen, he was met with a woefully empty rattle. “Have you got any water?” Silva asked, loath to stick his canteen out into the rain and wait for it to fill that way. He should have filled up that morning. Today really wasn’t his day. 

Chrollo perked up, blinking for a moment before moving for his bag. “I think so; let me check.” He rooted around inside his pack, shifting onto his knees to scrounge. As he dug, he tossed out a few clothes that were in the way, and then a book, and then a small bundle that rattled when it hit the stone. Chrollo didn’t seem to pay much attention, too busy digging to look up. 

A glint of silver caught Silva’s eye however, and he leaned forward, plucking up the bundle of cloth before Chrollo could catch on. It was heavier than he expected it to be, the cloth slipping away to reveal some sort of jewelry. His eyes went wide when he saw the rubies, but in the next moment, a dark hand cut into his field of view, snatching the piece away from him before he realized what had happened.

“You dropped that,” Silva said quickly, before Chrollo could accuse him of stealing again. “I wasn’t trying to take it.” 

Chrollo frowned at him, shoving the half full canteen into his chest as he cradled the jewelry close. “I… I know,” he mumbled, trying and failing to keep his expression level. “I just don’t like people touching my things.”

Silva untwisted the cap of the canteen and took a drink, sensing they were heading into sensitive territory. He gestured towards the thing with the canteen, swallowing his mouthful before speaking. “Is that what you were so protective of before?” he asked casually. “Back when you thought I was rooting through your bag.”

“You  _ were  _ rooting through my bag,” Chrollo delivered pointedly, opening his hand to stare at the trinket pensively. He let out a tense breath, lifting his gaze slowly. “But, yeah.”

“Another one of those gifts from your lover?” Silva guessed, setting the canteen on the ground. “What is it supposed to be?”

“A bracelet,” he murmured. “He gave me this a few weeks after my earrings.” Chrollo held the shiny silver bracelet up to the light, showing Silva but making no move to let him hold it. “It’s the last one I have left,” he said ruefully, stroking over the inscribed links, his thumb pausing on the blood red stones inlaid in the silver. “I couldn’t bear for it to be stolen.”

“But selling it is okay?” Silva asked, not understanding at all. The earrings were a gift too, but Chrollo was still wearing those. “If you care so much about them, then why bother pawning them? There has to be other ways for you to get money.”

“There weren’t,” Chrollo said succinctly, meeting his eye. He cradled the jewelry between his palms, his look almost forlorn. “It’s one thing for me to give it up on my own. Something I’ve come to terms with losing, I guess. Having it taken from me is completely different.”

“Do you…” Silva began, keeping his voice level. “Do you want me to put it on you?”

For a moment, Chrollo looked like he was considering it. His hands went tight on the bracelet, and then loosened, his head hanging as he sighed. “No,” he decided, putting the bracelet back in the deepest part of his pack. “No, it would just get broken, or make me even more of a target. The less I have to remind me of Hisoka right now the better.”

“Do you miss him?” As soon as he asked the question, he regretted it. Chrollo looked up, his expression miserable. The Drow scrubbed at his eyes and then looked at the wall, lips curled into a pout that made him look anything but his actual age. 

“That’s… a hard question to answer,” Chrollo said sourly, hands balled up tightly in his lap. “I’ve spent the last fifty years of my life with him. I don’t have anyone else on this earth I’m as close to, or as intimate with. It’s… odd being away from him. From our home.”

Silva could sense there was a lot Chrollo wasn’t saying. Instead of calling him out on it, he simply raised a brow, waiting. Chrollo frowned down at his hands, continuing after a moment of silence.

“But he’s also insufferable and pushy and clingy,” Chrollo huffed, falling back to prop himself up with his hands. He glowered at the rock over their heads. “He doesn’t let me do anything. I used to go everywhere. I used to come and go, and I always came back!” He looked at Silva animatedly. “But I guess he didn’t trust me. That all stopped and I was trapped in that mansion.”

Chrollo sighed, kicking at a loose piece of rock. It rolled along the uneven floor, clinging its way to a stop against the far cave wall. “But for all of that, yeah. Yeah, I miss him. I’m antsy without him. I never had to worry when I was with him. He knew how to provide for me, no matter what I needed. No matter whether I knew what I needed or not.” A small smile settled along his full lips, his eyes meeting Silva’s warmly. “He has so many pet names for me. For all he has, I think I’m the most precious thing he can call his own.”

The firelight flickered off the stone walls of the cave, and when Silva looked at Chrollo, he saw the same light turn the Drow into something ethereal. His cheekbones sharpened, his eyes hooded and inviting. Every inch of bare skin glistened, Chrollo’s cropped shirt and slitted, laced trousers baring far too much of him to be anything but a carefully crafted tease. Silva swallowed and looked back down at the burning logs, ignoring the warmth forming in the pit of his stomach. 

“Those are some pretty words for a man you left behind,” Silva said, directing his words to the fire where it was safe to look. “If you felt so safe there, then why did you bother coming up above?”

Chrollo sighed, leaning against his bag. Silva took a quick glance and regretted it immediately. Draped along the pack, his spine curved and hip bare, he looked like a forlorn angel begging to be worshipped. “I suppose,” Chrollo breathed, unaware of what he was doing, or aware and not caring, “that I wanted to make sure there was nothing better up here.” His ebony eyes cut across to Silva, smiling gently. “I still like Hisoka just fine. I just wish he would move somewhere else.”

That seemed too simplistic to be the truth. Silva propped his arm on his bent knee. “So you decided to run away from home without a backwards glance?” he prodded, noting how Chrollo frowned. “How much can you like him if you run off on him?”

Chrollo shoved himself upright, his eyes hardening into a glare. “Well, obviously it’s not as cut and dry as that,” he said defensively. 

“I think you’re hiding something,” Silva huffed, banking the fire with another log. A spray of sparks lit up the cave, dissipating like the rain outside wouldn’t.  

“I think you’re too interested in my private affairs,” Chrollo muttered, crossing his arms. “It’s really none of your business why I left Hisoka. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like I belong to him. He may think I do, but he knows I’m my own person first. I can do what I want.” He gave Silva a once over, one that wasn’t subtle at all. “I can… I can do  _ whatever _ I want.”

Silva stared at him, wondering if that could possibly mean what he thought it meant. Chrollo stared back, his dark cheeks flushing indigo in the firelight. The world was still, the only sound the crackling, whispering fire and the pelting rain outside. The tension was stifling. Silva didn’t dare breathe. 

“Just because you’re maudlin…” Silva began, and Chrollo bit his lip, body as tense as the strings of a lute. “Are you… Do you  _ want _ me?”

Chrollo looked away first, wrestling for his cloak, his pack, his bedroll. Whatever bravado he had held disappeared the moment it was pointed out. “I’m… Just...” he began, his voice cracked. “Nevermind. I’m going to bed. You can keep the first watch.”

“Chrollo.” 

The Drow froze, meeting Silva’s eye carefully. His teeth worried at his lip, his chest rising and falling quickly. The movement drew attention to his neck, to the tight little top he wore and how it just barely covered his gorgeous skin. Silva’s mouth went dry, pinning Chrollo in place with just his gaze. 

“What do you want me to say?” Chrollo asked, trying to play off his gamble with a forced laugh. He drew his hand behind his head, tangling his fingers in his thick hair like a nervous habit only half broken. “It’s been over a month since I left the Underdark. No one wants me up here, and if they do, they don’t want  _ me. _ They want some… some disgusting fantasy.” He tugged and yanked at his hair, meeting Silva’s eyes slowly. “I’m not asking you to. Just ignore me. I’m going to bed.”

With the offer out in the open, the words all but unsaid, Silva couldn’t just  _ ignore  _ it. 

He wanted to touch that skin. He wanted to feel every single inch of it against his own. Silva reached across the space between them, grabbing Chrollo’s slender wrist in his hand before the Drow could shift away. Chrollo froze like a rabbit caught before a fox, eyes wide and already trembling from just the simple touch. Silva had wanted it for awhile now. If it were within his reach, of course he would take it. 

“Stay. Please,” Silva said, conveying every ounce of want, every single drop of desire he held for the Drow before him. Chrollo looked stricken, drowning in the weight of Silva’s spoken need. 

It took a loud, sharp snap from the fire to tear the tension to pieces. Just one crack to set them loose on each other. Chrollo reached Silva first, knotting his hands in Silva’s long hair, dragging him into the most painful kiss of his life. The Drow kissed with every inch of his body, his teeth nipping, his hands roving, his hips rolling desperately against Silva like the dancer he so resembled. 

“Are we really doing this?” Chrollo gasped between kisses, his warm, lithe body plastered to Silva’s front. “I don’t want some pity fuck. Do… Do you really want me?”

Silva took him by the hips and dragged him to the floor, laying him out on the fur mantle. Chrollo was built entirely of smooth, gentle curves and sharp, pointed need. His hands were already grasping for Silva, his thighs spreading to welcome the hunter against his body. Were they really doing this? The question came a little too late for the answer to matter. 

“Shut up,” he growled, laying his hands on hips too perfect to resist. “I want you so much I could break something.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Chrollo gasped, hands fisted in Silva’s shirt, nearly ripping it off his body. Silva shucked it before he could, the Drow’s touch burning his skin with its desperate heat. 

When with a new lover, Silva tended to take his time to acclimate himself to their body. He would test and play, touching all he could while searching for the places that made his lover sing. He wanted to savor his intimacy when it came to him, if it came to him. But now, with this Drow, there was no time for any of his usual habits. His berry dark lips were parted on a moan, a sheen of sweat glistening across his soft, dusky skin. Silva didn’t need to ask to know that the Drow wasn’t in the mood for niceties. 

He didn’t want intimacy from Silva; he wanted to get fucked. 

“Isn’t this against one of those rules of yours?” Chrollo gasped, his dark eyes laughing even as Silva released his hands to begin unfastening the snaps that held shut the front of the Drow’s shirt. They parted way easily, opening up Chrollo’s chest to Silva’s eager, assessing eye. 

“Those rules are meant for you to follow; not me,” Silva grunted, lowering his head to lap at the dark bud of Chrollo’s nipple. Everything about the Drow was made to entice, from his abyssal eyes to his tight, lithe body. His chest was smooth, softer than Silva expected to find, but he wasn’t in any mood to complain. He merely cupped what his mouth couldn’t touch with a hand, his other slipping down to tear at the laces running down Chrollo’s shapely thigh. 

Slender fingers carded through Silva’s hair a moment later. Chrollo’s laugh echoed through his chest, his mirth tinged with want. “Hypocrite,” he said, lifting his thigh to make Silva’s search for more skin easier. “You’re lucky it’s been awhile for me. Usually I’m very picky when it comes to lovers.”

Somehow Silva doubted that. He bit down gently on Chrollo’s nipple, tugging it until the Drow cried out. With one last soft lick he abandoned Chrollo’s chest entirely. “Oh?” he went, giving the laces a hard tug that loosened them enough to yank down Chrollo’s tight leather trousers. “So I should be thanking you for this, is that right?”

“I’m not saying you  _ have  _ to, but a little gratitude wouldn’t be out of place,” Chrollo teased, lifting his hips to help Silva peel off the leather. They weren’t eager to be parted from him, but given how good the Drow tasted, Silva could hardly blame the trousers for lingering. Chrollo preened beneath his gaze, his dark cheeks all the darker for his blush. He was so cocky now that he knew he wasn’t being rejected. 

“You look like you want to eat me alive,” he murmured, smiling as Silva stroked his bare legs. “Is that how you show gratitude?”

“It’s how I shut you up,” Silva murmured, entranced by how soft the Drow’s legs were. His skin was as smooth as satin, hairless and perfect beneath his hands. Chrollo gasped prettily as his legs were kissed, Silva trailing his lips along the mindlessly soft skin. The words from before filled his head, of how erotic Drow were, of how blessed a man could be for keeping one in his bed. They rang loudly between his ears as he moved lower, true in every sense as far as Silva could see. 

He stopped moving entirely when he spread Chrollo’s thighs. 

Aside from the obvious, perfect shape of Chrollo’s sex against his thigh, what greeted Silva first and foremost were scars; old, silvery and raised just a little, they lay in uneven clusters, some more ragged than others. 

“What are these?” Silva asked sharply, trailing his fingers along the numerous little crescent moons littering the inner portions of Chrollo’s thighs. Most were faded but a few were still sharply prominent, made all the more visible by the light of the flickering fire beside them. Not fresh wounds, but still young enough to feel rough beneath his fingers. Someone had been here not that long ago. A few weeks. Maybe a month at most.

Chrollo had the audacity to look confused. He peered down his body and through his parted legs, smiling sheepishly as Silva traced the shapes cut into his thighs. “Oh,” he said, blinking his dark, dark eyes. “Those are from my lover. You can just ignore them.” 

If that wasn’t the biggest load of bull he’d ever heard. Silva was a lot of things but an idiot wasn’t one of them. “I can’t just ignore these,” Silva said, trailing off as a leg hitched itself around his hip. 

“Yes, you can.” Smiling sultrily, Chrollo arched a little, dragging Silva’s attention away from them and back onto the rest of him. It almost worked. Silva took him by the thighs and dragged him closer, utterly entranced by the perfect picture the Drow made beneath him. Or, he was right until he caught sight of similar marks on Chrollo’s shoulders too, the soft fan of his hair not doing enough to keep them covered now that his cloak was off and his shirt gone. Silva growled lowly and rutted his clothed cock against the swell of the Drow’s ass, bending him in half to get a closer look at his already claimed body. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize they were bite marks, and it took even less to know that Silva was about to fuck some other man’s pet. “Your lover doesn’t treat you very kindly, does he?” Silva huffed, wondering why he even cared enough to bring it up. “I thought you said you liked him.”

“Maybe I like it when he’s rough,” Chrollo said, his eyes hard, his teeth a little bared. He was defensive of the markings and obviously unbothered by them. Silva just rolled his eyes, turning Chrollo onto his stomach. Leave it to the Drow to enjoy pain and bloodshed, even during something like sex. “And I don’t like that judgemental look of yours,” Chrollo muttered, dutifully lifting his ass as he made himself comfortable on his folded arms. “Don’t act like you know better than me. I’m a lot older than you.”

Well, he was probably right about that. Silva didn’t know many Drow but he knew plenty of elves, and if the two were anything alike in that regard, then Chrollo was probably twice Silva’s palty forty years, if not three times that. But Chrollo didn’t look it, Silva mused, trailing an appreciative hand down the Drow’s smooth, full ass. Chrollo looked no older than twenty, and with a body as beautiful as his, Silva could keep his mouth shut and take what he was given. If Chrollo wanted to defend some violent, biting lover, then who was he to say otherwise? Chrollo was an adult, and Silva wasn’t in the business of caring. 

So instead of caring, he set himself to opening up the Drow. A cursory touch told him that Chrollo was tight. Too tight to proceed recklessly. “Have you got oil in that bag of yours?” Silva grunted, entertaining himself by tracing his thumb over the Drow’s entrance, eliciting shiver after shiver from him. 

“Y-yes,” Chrollo gasped, throwing out his hand to snag the strap of his satchel. He dragged it over and rooted around inside, pulling the small bottle free and tossing it blindly back at Silva. “D-don’t waste it all,” he muttered, burying his face in his arms. “It was a gift.”

If Chrollo kept bringing up his lover, his Drow lover who apparently was also  _ rich _ given the quality of the oil, Silva might just lose his patience. He poured a considerable amount onto his fingers and down the cleft of Chrollo’s ass, using more than he needed but not quite all of it. “Stop thinking about him when you’re with me,” Silva ordered, dipping his fingers inside without warning or preamble. Insult to his pride aside, if Chrollo was running from his lover, thinking about him at a time like this wouldn’t help anything. Silva leaned over Chrollo’s back, pinning him down with his bulk. “I’m going to fuck you blind for getting me caught up in that bar fight. The least you can do is pay attention as I do it.”

He felt more than heard Chrollo’s answering laugh. “Still hard up about that?” It came in a breathless keen, his shoulders shaking from the effort of trying to support both his and Silva’s weight. Silva slipped inside another finger and Chrollo yelped, eyes closed tight in concentration. “Fair enough,” he managed, fucking himself back onto Silva’s fingers eagerly. “Fair enough.”

Though his voice was cracking around the edges, Chrollo took the intrusion beautifully. Silva could feel how his muscles clenched and loosened around his fingers, riding them with all the confidence of one more than accustomed to being pleasured this way. It wasn’t that surprising, given his talk of his Drow lover, but Silva couldn’t help but be in awe. Silva hadn’t fucked many men, but he could already tell that Chrollo relished in this side of the act, his every movement geared towards submission.

“You really want me to fuck you, don’t you?” Silva breathed, crooking his fingers and prodding the spot inside Chrollo that nearly sent him to the ground. His spine went ramrod straight, his long, slender limbs quaking with need. “Is that what you like? Being fucked raw by someone bigger than you?”

Chrollo spread his thighs and whined. “Gods, yes,” he moaned, his voice echoing off the cave walls, reverberating deep in Silva’s bones. “I want it. Hurt me, make me bleed.”

Silva swallowed, slowing his hand. With his free one he yanked at his trousers, freeing himself as Chrollo thrust abortively for more. He had never fucked a masochist before, and he wasn’t sure if he was very interested in indulging Chrollo in that kind of play. “I’m not a Drow,” he murmured, removing his fingers entirely to coat himself in the oil. Whatever it was, it filled the cave with the heady scent of sex and pomegranates, mingling with the already rich scent of Chrollo’s skin. “I’m not going to hurt you like Hisoka, if that’s what you’re wanting of me.”

For a moment, Chrollo stilled his desperate bid for more. Turning his head, he looked back at Silva, his eyes dark and hazy. “I don’t want you to mark me,” he panted, his lips swollen from his worrying teeth. “That’s not for you to do. I just want to hurt a little.” 

Lining himself up, Silva rubbed the blunt head of his cock against the Drow’s soft, slick entrance. In the glowing light of the fire, his skin glistened wetly, the puckered hole beckoning him inside as good as a pleading beg. “You’ll get what I give you,” Silva said lowly, gripping Chrollo’s narrow hip to hold him in place, feeding him an inch and nothing more. Chrollo bowed his head and choked, his cock dripping between his shaking thighs. “Don’t get greedy now, brat. Not unless you want me to stop.”

Chrollo stiffened and looked back at Silva desperately, pupils blown wide and locks of hair sticking to his sweaty face. “Please,” he begged softly, biting his bottom lip when Silva rewarded him with another inch. His eyes slid shut, his cheeks flushed dark. 

One look was all it took for Silva to bury himself to the hilt without another word. The rumors couldn’t hold a candle to this. Silva groaned and was moving before Chrollo had a chance to catch his breath. Everything about the Drow pulled him in, dragging him forward to fuck into the tight, burning heat like a man who would die without it. Chrollo took him beautifully too, spreading his thighs wide and rolling his hips, sincere in his wish for Silva to hurt him, to own him, to make him cum in the dirt like a whore. 

Whoever Chrollo’s lover was or had been, Silva had to pity him. What a shame it must be to lose such a perfect fuck like this. 

“Silva,” Chrollo moaned, clawing at the cloak beneath him desperately. His shoulders trembled and he looked back with wet eyes, his expression so lewd that it made Silva sweat. “Harder. Please.”

Silva swore and braced his knees, leaning over Chrollo to mount him properly. They had only just begun and already he felt winded. He drew back his hips and thrust inside in sharp, quick motions, dragging Chrollo back to meet him by the hips. Chrollo’s cries rose louder, rolling against the stone cave, filling the night air with his sweet voice. God, but it sounded good. 

Chrollo hadn’t been lying when he had said he hadn’t done this in a while. He was tight, clamping down around Silva like a vice despite the lube and prep. If he were in any pain he didn’t show it, or at least, he didn’t complain about it. Chrollo rolled back to meet every thrust he gave, delighting in all he felt. He spread his thighs wider, rested himself on his forearms to lift his ass higher for Silva; Chrollo knew what he liked and how to get it, and he didn’t mind being used a little to get what he wanted. If anything, he seemed to relish the act of submitting. 

God, and if that wasn’t a heady thought. When was the last time Silva had fucked someone so submissive? Ages, if he had ever to begin with. 

Suddenly, it wasn’t enough just to hear him and touch him. Silva needed to see his face as he came apart. He gripped Chrollo’s hips tight enough to bruise and pulled out, ignoring Chrollo’s bereft cry as he shoved the Drow onto his side, lifting up a slender thigh and burying himself once again in the tight, wet heat. “Let me see your face,” Silva all but growled, the thrusts turning brutal as he neared his end. 

The Drow looked at him, beholden to him no matter what he asked of him. Chrollo looped his hands around Silva’s neck, bending himself in two as he dug his sharp nails into the meat of Silva’s shoulders. “H-Harder,” he urged, scratching harder, the burn driving Silva faster. “I’m so full. Gods, Silva. So good. Please.”

If Silva fucked him any harder, they were liable to dent the stone beneath them. He grabbed Chrollo’s wrists and dragged him back down, pinning his hands above his head. “You’ll take what I give you,” he said, loving how his voice alone seemed enough to make Chrollo shiver and shake. “Don’t get greedy. You aren’t in control here.”

The words elicited another moan. The Drow tossed his head back and bared his throat, submitting like a well-trained pet to his touch. Silva let go of his hands knowing they weren’t likely to try scratching again and instead took up Chrollo’s hips, giving him every last ounce of strength he had left to give. Chrollo scrambled at the slick fur of his mantle, at the stone above his head, his cock weeping when he found nothing to hold onto. Silva wanted to watch him cum. He needed to see what the brat looked like when drunk on his cock.

“I’m… I’m-” Chrollo couldn’t seem to get the words out, every breath he took punched out of him in the next moment from Silva’s punishing pace. His hands trembled, burying themselves in the fur above his head, his eyes staring but not seeing. “S-Silva, I’m–”

“Do it,” Silva ordered, his voice low, rumbling through his chest as he drank in the sight beneath him. “Do it. Cum all over yourself. Cum like the filthy little toy you are.”

Chrollo closed his eyes tightly, his knuckles whitening as he clenched the mantle hard enough to nearly rip it. His lips parted and he choked on a moan, his entire body trembling as he toppled over the edge. Cum coated his stomach, his chest, his muscles going tight like a vice around Silva’s cock. 

The sight alone was nearly enough to send Silva over. When Chrollo opened his eyes, staring up at him in utter rapture, Silva couldn’t hold on, no matter how hard he tried. He pumped his hips in a frantic, broken rush, spilling inside the Drow with a low groan. He fucked himself through the white bliss, only stopping when Chrollo began to whine and fidget in discomfort. 

Silva opened eyes he hadn’t realized he had closed, taking in the beautiful Drow and the mess he had made of him. Chrollo had his hands over his eyes, struggling to catch his breath. A thin sheen of sweat coated his body, his belly awash in release. Silva bit his lip as he pulled out, wincing at the unpleasant feeling. With the frantic haze gone, a pronounced ache began to take root in his joints, his knees creaking painfully as he sat back on his haunches. There were several reasons why he didn’t bother pursuing bed partners much these days, and this was definitely one of them. 

“Are you okay, brat?” he asked after he had managed to catch his breath a bit, shucking his trousers completely to avoid the mess covering Chrollo’s skin. “It makes me nervous when you’re not talking incessantly.”

There was a moment of silence, and then a wrecked laugh. “Wow,” Chrollo gasped, splayed out on the mantle in an uncoordinated heap. His cheeks were flushed violet, his hand shaking as he wiped at his brow. A smile split his lips and he stared at Silva with a look of utter glee. “I’ve never had a human before, so you certainly set a low bar high.”

It was meant to be a compliment, and Silva decided to take it as one instead of hearing it for the insult lying just beneath the surface. “Thanks,” he said, falling down onto the mantle beside Chrollo, muscles sore and hot. It had been awhile since he had gotten so wound up. “You sure don’t hold back, do you?” he winced, feeling the scratches tug and sting across his back. “Are you always like that?”

Chrollo hummed, rolling onto his side to trail kisses along Silva’s bicep. His lips were soft, his fingers even softer as they settled on his chest, playing gently with his chest hair as if he had never before seen the like. “Did you not like it?” he whispered, looking at Silva through his thick lashes. “Hisoka never complained.”

“I’m not complaining,” Silva frowned, narrowing his eyes at the mention of the spurned lover. There was a time and place, and neither were found while Silva was still shaking off an afterglow. Certainly not when Chrollo still bore the imprints of Silva’s fingers along his hips and wrists. 

“Oh, I see,” Chrollo murmured, leaning in for a teasing kiss. “You just can’t handle me. It’s okay. I’m hard to satisfy. Hisoka would fuck me every day just to keep me sated.”

“Now you’re just trying to make me angry.” Silva took Chrollo by the wrist, tugging him closer so the cheeky brat couldn’t run away. Though, given how hard he had just been fucked, Silva doubted Chrollo would be walking, let alone running anytime soon. 

Chrollo leaned in and kissed his nose, and then his cheek. “Maybe just a little,” he chuckled, inching even closer, slipping his bare leg between Silva’s to roll on top of him. “It has been awhile though, and maybe I got a little excited. I’m not used to going untouched for so long.”

That sounded like a downright shame to Silva, even if the thought of someone else seeing and tasting and touching Chrollo like that sent a stab of envy through his chest. Something that erotic shouldn’t be given to just anyone. Even now Chrollo was gorgeous, the firelight glistening in his shiny, dark hair, along his svelte form. 

“Why are you smiling so much?” Silva asked, giving in to the urge to stroke his knuckles along the line of Chrollo’s spine. His skin was so soft, and Chrollo leaned into the touches like the most affectionate pet. “Fucking couldn’t have put you in that good of a mood.”

Stretching, the Drow smiled all the wider. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You did do such a good job. It’s been so long, after all. I missed it something awful.” Chrollo folded himself along Silva’s body, his bare toes brushing against his calf as his cheek nuzzled his chest. “I think we’re going to have a great partnership if that’s how you fuck every time,” the Drow purred, smiling at Silva. 

“We’re not partners, and we’re not doing that again,” Silva said, frowning when Chrollo’s smile just got bigger. “I’m serious. That was a one-time thing. I don’t fuck clients.”

“You fucked this one,” Chrollo grinned, propping himself up on Silva’s chest with his crossed arms, looming over Silva’s lips like a cat waiting to pounce. “You fucked me so roughly too. You…” He trailed off, rolling the words against Silva’s ear like a lewd promise, his voice a moan. “You  _ marked _ me, Silva. I told you not to and you just came inside me instead.”

“It’s… It’s not like I scarred you,” Silva murmured, beginning to sweat, his over-tired body trying valiantly to heat back up. 

“And yet here I am,” Chrollo teased, lapping at Silva’s ear, dragging his sharp fanged teeth along the lobe. “Dripping with your claim.”

“That’s not…” Silva tried to speak, tried to argue, but he found himself distracted by a kiss. Hands falling to Chrollo’s hips, he melted into the Drow’s lips, the fight leaving him just like that. Dangerous. It was dangerous to let Chrollo get so close to him like this. Unprofessional, sloppy, a conflict of interests–

“Oh,” Chrollo breathed, speaking against Silva’s tingling lips, his soft hand wrapping around Silva’s hardening cock. “It looks like you agree.”

Silva wanted to argue. He wanted to insist on professionalism, on some degree of separation, but then Chrollo let out a sweet, needy little mewl in his ear, and Silva’s worries stuttered to an abrupt stop. What was the harm, he reasoned, rolling Chrollo back onto his back, nipping at the Drow’s enticing ear. Didn’t he deserve a little release now and then? 

So long as Silva pretended it was his own idea, he could put up with another few rounds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (in the book version, this will actually be chapter three. there's another before this one to better add to the developing relationship)


	4. Chapter Three

The cave was far behind them by the time they neared the town Chrollo had picked out, the days and nights since filled with this new development between them. Every night was spent in something a right side better than arguing, and every morning in something tamer but only just. They weren’t fighting as much now, which Silva had to think was a good thing, but when the afterglow faded and reality set back in, nothing much had changed. Chrollo was still a brat and Silva spent more time than he would like to admit keeping the Drow from doing something stupid. 

Silva just wished Chrollo would stop being so… so... 

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?” Chrollo demanded, crossing his arms and glaring up at Silva, blocking the man from moving forward. “I helped with that bounty. That money is mine too, so why should you be the only one to spend it?”

Silva frowned. Bratty. That was the word. He used it so much because there really wasn’t a better way to describe Chrollo’s unique brand of obstinance. He listened up to a certain point, and then willfully ignored Silva’s orders. For as much as the Drow argued that he wasn’t nobility, he sure seemed to act as if he were owed that much consideration. 

Silva sighed, taking a step closer to loom over the small Drow. At least he still had that over Chrollo, their height difference granting him some measure of influence. “I told you already,” he repeated, willing Chrollo to back down. “You can’t go into a town looking the way you do. No one would sell to us and we’d be going without supplies if that happened. You want to eat, don’t you? So just stay here and let me go do what needs to be done.”

Chrollo narrowed his dark eyes. Silva had hoped sleeping with the brat would have won him some control, or even just some measure of trust, but for as submissive as Chrollo was, he certainly seemed to save that for the bedroom alone. “If food was all we needed, we could hunt,” he said shrewdly, refusing to balk as Silva grew closer. “You left me behind once already. If you make a habit of it, how are you earning your pay from me?”

“You paid me to keep you safe–”

“I paid you  _ to accompany me _ ,” Chrollo cut in, his hands coming down to his sides as he glared upwards at Silva. “You leaving me behind in the forest isn’t that.” 

Silva let out a low sigh, too tired to be getting into this again. “It is when the alternative is taking you into a village of humans and who knows what else and expecting them to stay their blades the moment they catch sight of you,” he growled. “Keeping you safe means getting food for us no matter what. I’ll tie you to a tree if I have to, Chrollo. You’re not coming into town with me.”

Chrollo glared hotly at Silva, but after a beat, wilted and looked away. “Fine,” he grumbled, dropping to his knees to dig through his bag. “Fine, fine, go off without me. I’ll get my own work done while you do yours, then.” 

As he spoke, he pulled out vial after vial, bottle after bottle, all filled with some manner of dried herb, insect, or liquid. Silva took a half-step back. He wasn’t the best with herbology but he could identify enough to know that what Chrollo held in his hands were poisons. “What… Have you been carrying all that around with you?” Silva demanded, thinking of how close that bag had been to his head as he slept. Horror filled him soon after when he recalled the blind grab Chrollo had made for the lube. How close had they come to using something other than oil?

Humming, Chrollo peered at his various bottles with no sign of sensing Silva’s distress, pulling out a leather bound book and a pen. “Are you regretting digging through here that first night? Perhaps that will teach you to keep your hands off other people’s belongings.” He opened it to a random page and began to write, scrawling words in a looping script with his lip caught between his teeth. “Pick me up these,” he said, tearing the page from the book, handing it up to Silva. “The amounts are on there. Take it out of my portion of the bounty.”

Silva took it in hand and read the words quickly, eyes growing wide. Belladonna, amanitas, hemlock… “What do you plan on doing with these?” he asked, looking down to find Chrollo sitting with his legs crossed, vials balances on his knees as he pulled a mortar and pestle from his bag. 

“Use your imagination, Silva,” Chrollo sighed, glancing up at him tiredly. “You have your work and I have mine. Or well, I have my hobby. Never got to do much with it before when I was with Hisoka. He thought it unbecoming to play with poisons in the house.”

For once, Silva had to agree with Hisoka. “Is that safe?” he asked, taking a step back as Chrollo opened a jar of oleander, mixing it with some black, speckled beads that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be some sort of dried beetle. Chrollo took up his mortar and pestle and began to mash them together, forming a thick paste. 

Chrollo chuckled as he worked. “Not to whoever tastes it,” he said, giving Silva a cheeky smile. “But don’t worry about me. I’m immune.”

“Immune?” Silva said in disbelief. “Really. To all of that?”

Chrollo nodded, carefully balancing the stone bowl on his knee as he reached for a vial of something purple and vaguely viscous. “Well, most things. Definitely most toxins. Paralytics not so much, since those are more dangerous to immunize yourself against alone. If you take even a hair too much, you could suffocate and there would be nothing you could do about it.” He furrowed his brow at the thought. “I’m the first to admit to playing fast and loose with my safety, but even I have my limits.” 

He looked up at Silva then, smiling. “But don’t worry. None of what I’m doing today is capable of harming me.” 

For some reason, none of that gave much comfort to Silva. Chrollo noticed.

“If you’re really worried,” he said, smile angelic, “you could always let me come along into town.”

Silva frowned, shouldering his bag higher. “Absolutely not,” he grunted, looking off through the trees. If Chrollo ended up killing himself by playing with his poisons, that would be one less problem for Silva to deal with. “Don’t move from this spot. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Worry about yourself if you don’t get me everything on that list. Your pillow is the tan one over here, yes? Just checking.”

Pausing mid-step, Silva looked at the smiling Drow. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

Chrollo’s glee was beatific. “Oh, wouldn’t I?” he pondered, tapping at his lips with fingers that couldn’t possibly be clean of poison. “Perhaps the threat will teach you to be kinder to me. Or,” the Drow grinned, eyes falling to half-mast, “perhaps we could just share tonight, so long as you apologize.”

Silva made a mental note to burn his pillow once he got back, poisoned or not. Clearing his throat, he refused to let his thoughts show. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said, walking towards the smoke he could see just above the tree canopy. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Silva,” Chrollo called out to his retreating back, no doubt a smile on his face as he juggled his vials of poison as if they were toys. “I save the idiocy quota for you.” It was small comfort to think that the Drow knew was his was doing, but either way, Silva needed to move before any more daylight was burnt worrying. 

It didn’t take long to get to the village, but Silva could admit to the silence making it seem longer that it actually was. Without Chrollo chattering in his ear, the miles stretched on and on. So when Silva finally came to the fenced in village, he put on an extra burst of speed, eager to leave the silence of the road behind him. He wasn’t in any mood to ponder when that silence had become so unwelcome. 

The town at least proved a good distraction from his thoughts. The main square was alive with activity, the early afternoon bringing with it a sense of productivity that Silva found contagious. There wasn’t time to be moping or gloomy. He had a list of things to get and an ornery Drow to return to, and he knew that the longer he lingered, the greater the risk there was of Chrollo setting fire to the forest or poisoning himself. 

It took only a few minutes to find a store that probably sold the things on Chrollo’s list. One of the perks of a larger, well-stocked town, Silva supposed. He kept it in mind as he went towards the town’s bounty board, taking in the broadsheets with drawings, descriptions, and rewards along its front. There didn’t seem to be many takers around here, so Silva helped himself to the sheets, tearing them down and folding them up, tucking them all into his pack for later. Not much competition in this area for once. 

Hopefully they would be able to find all of the marks without issue. It would be nice to have that much money to burn. Good insurance in case Chrollo ended up causing another bar fight and Silva needed to smooth things over with some locals. 

The thought alone made him smile. Turning away from the bounty board, he looked for the apothecary he saw walking in. It wasn’t likely he’d let Chrollo goad him into taking him into a town, but it was reassuring to know they would be able to afford it should it happen. But, that was a long way off. They still needed to find the marks first, and for that to happen, they would need supplies. 

The store was empty when Silva walked inside, or as good as, the only other occupants the shopkeeper and a couple milling customers who looked like they were on their way out. Silva brushed past them and headed towards the counter, glancing around at the wares on the walls and counters. He wasn’t used to coming into apothecaries, not for anything other than health drinks or the odd herb here and there. He tried to look like he was well-versed though when the vendor gave him a once over. Silva could tell with just a look that the man would overcharge him if he smelled even the slightest weakness in Silva’s herbology knowledge. 

“Afternoon,” the man greeted, his voice a bit rough but still hospitable. “What can I do you for?”

Silva pretended to look around with a discerning eye for a moment. “I’ve a list of ingredients I need,” he said, meeting the man’s eye evenly. He pulled out Chrollo’s list and handed it off, keeping his expression steady even as the vendor’s eyes went wide from the poisons he was asking for. “And I also need a few other things too. Standard provisions, whatever’s freshest. Price doesn’t matter.”

The vendor swallowed a bit nervously, eyeing the list and then Silva. “Of course, sir,” he said, his tone far more polite now. “Will there be anything else?”

Blinking slowly, Silva took another look around, this time actually seeing what the man had. Dried bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, interspersed with sacks filled with nuts, berries, and even bones waiting to be ground up for spellwork. The shelves were laden with all sorts of apparati for potion making, an entire section filled with tiny glass bottles boasting ingredients, completed potions, and empty vials waiting to be filled. 

“What all have you got over there?” he asked cocking his head towards the potions. It had been awhile since he’d last stocked up, but it always did make a job easier when he dosed a bounty with sleeping draught during the final transit. Especially when traveling with Chrollo, too. If a mark ever got loose while Silva slept, it could be bad. 

The vendor sat down the list and walked over towards the shelves, pointing them out as he spoke. “Pretty much any sort of potion you could need,” he began, tapping a dull nail on the vials as he counted down the rows. “Healing, spell boosters, plague cures, disease cures, sleeping draughts…” He paused, taking a breath, smiling through his windedness. “You get the idea. If it’s not here, I can probably make it within a few days.” 

Silva hummed, taking in the numerous vials. “I’ll take six of the sleeping draughts, three health potions, and…” he trailed off, eyes catching on a small vial off to the side in a line of potions that seemed to glow in the meager light. “What are those?” he asked, gesturing towards them. They were a bright pink, shining like gems more than liquid. 

The man paused in gathering up the specified potions, looking over to where Silva pointed. He smiled toothily, giving Silva a look. “Oh, those just came in. Elven made, even. Guaranteed to give you the best night of your life. For you and your, ahem, special someone, if you catch my drift, sir.”

Realization flooded Silva, and he had to hold back on the urge to smile too. Oh. “Well, I can’t argue with a guarantee,” he chuckled, lifting a hand, two fingers up. “I’ll take a couple of those too. Whichever is best.” Silva could see it now: Chrollo laid out on his cloak, naked and flushed and crying from the force of his pleasure. The pink would look good against his dark skin, and Silva did need to make it up to him for leaving him behind in the woods. Silva couldn’t imagine a better way to make amends than to treat the Drow to the best night of his life, even if it were Elven made. 

“Good taste, sir,” the man said, his previous discomfort eased in the light of Silva’s mirth. “I’ll get all of this together for you. It’ll be a few minutes.”

“I’m saying he saw it!” someone insisted behind Silva, the voice soft and easily ignorable. 

“Alright,” Silva said, leaning on the counter to wait. He was confident now that he wouldn’t be taken advantage of, but he still had to wonder how much they were spending on frivolities. Silva wasn’t accustomed to traveling any way besides light, and he rarely allowed himself to splurge on novelties like Elven-made lube. One of the pitfalls of traveling with a gorgeous companion, he supposed, smiling a little despite himself. 

“And  _ I’m  _ saying,” a smarmy voice said, cutting through the quiet of the store, “that no Drow can just traipse around the surface in broad daylight! What you heard is patently wrong, and I won’t stand to hear you spit such nonsense.”

Silva’s ears pricked immediately. He looked away from the vendor already fumbling away to the back storerooms to find the source of the chatter, his eyes falling on a few browsing customers off to the side. 

They must have come in while Silva was haggling, since he didn’t recognize them from before. A Gnome stood beside her companion, waving her hands as she spoke. The elf stood far, far taller than her, but their ears were as keen as they were long, hearing every word despite the distance between them. They both stood before a wall of herbs, the elf barely paying attention as they plucked herbs from the bundles with a confidence that smacked of witch. 

Normally Silva avoided gossip like the plague, but that was far too close to home to be ignored. Whatever gossip they had heard, if it involved a Drow, it involved Silva. 

Silva crossed the shop in a few strides, smiling tightly at them. “Excuse me,” he said, hoping he sounded more pleasant than he usually did. “Did I hear you mention something about a Drow?”

The elf’s expression fell as if they had just smelled something foul. “Why?” they asked, raising a pale blond brow. “Have you seen the detestable thing, too? Great, another lout with broken eyes professing he’s seen the impossible.”

“No, I haven’t seen anything,” Silva rushed, shaking his head. “I’m just a bounty hunter by trade, so talk of a Drow aboveground tends to mean business for me.”

The elf softened their expression a little at that, but the upturned nose seemed to be ever-present with them. “Oh,” they said haughtily. “Well. Perhaps you could expect work then, if it were a real Drow.”

“It  _ is  _ a real Drow!” the Gnome cried out, her hands balled up into fists at her side. “I heard it from Jaen! He works with the sentries, so he would know!”

The elf let out a long, put upon sigh and looked down at their companion. “Did Jaen see it himself, or did he hear about it?” they asked, glancing up and meeting Silva’s eye as if to say  _ Look what idiocy I have to suffer.  _

The Gnome flushed red at that. “He… Well, no, okay, he didn’t see it himself,” she admitted, gesticulating, “but he heard it from another sentry who heard it from one of the patrol guards!”

“Who in turn heard it from what, a prisoner?” the elf guessed, tossing their hand up elegantly to make their point for them. “I’ve heard all about that bandit they apprehended, dear Nicau. Spitting tales of some Drow who slaughtered his men and led to his arrest.”

Silva went pale. Given the dark complexions of the two in front of him, he hoped they wouldn’t notice. “Bandit?” he asked, a weight in his gut telling him it was the same one from before. 

“Yes, obviously one who is angry and embarrassed at his arrest and decided to spread false rumors to lessen the blow to his ego,” the elf reasoned. 

“What makes you so sure, ‘Tsylk?” Nicau demanded, crossing her arms. “Since when are you such an expert on the matter?”

“Because,” ‘Tsylk sighed, “I know well enough that Drow can’t function on the surface during the day.”

Silva paused at that. “What do you mean they can’t function?” he asked. Chrollo had never shown any discomfort or sign of struggling at all, no matter what time of day it might be. “I’ve never heard anything about that.”

‘Tsylk looked ecstatic to have two ignorant people before them. They clapped their long hands together, smiling with glee. “Oh, you don’t know either? Well, I suppose it can’t be helped.” Just a glance down told Silva that Nicau wasn’t in the mood at all for this. It was just a shame that ‘Tsylk didn’t seem to care. “You see,” they continued, “Drow, scum of the earth as they are, can’t function aboveground because they simply aren’t built for it. They scuttle around beneath the surface like moles and insects, their eyes keen to the darkness. Up above, they can’t see a thing, blinded by the sun as they are.”

Now that the elf said it, Silva could see how it made sense. Or it did, up until he applied it to Chrollo. “Can they get used to the sun?” he asked, recalling that Chrollo had been above for only a few months at most. “How do you know that Drow hadn’t been here for awhile?”

‘Tsylk furrowed their brow, wrinkling their long nose. “That would take years,” they said flatly, lip curling in distaste. “Decades, perhaps, and it would not be a pleasant experience to get accustomed to. No Drow could go so long without being slaughtered, even if it were possible. There’s no such thing as a Drow keeping a low profile.” 

There was silence as Nicau glowered at the floor, Silva too stunned to find any retort. An elf would know, wouldn’t they? Silva knew about Drow in passing, but elves had been at war with them for centuries, so it would stand to reason that ‘Tsylk would know of their weaknesses. 

“What if it wasn’t a full Drow?” Nicau posed after another moment of quiet, her brow furrowed as she tried still to win the argument. “What if it were half, or a quarter? It’s not like any of us would know the difference.”

‘Tsylk grimaced. “What a disgusting idea,” they remarked, the earthy brown of their skin tinging green. “Any abomination like that would be hard pressed to live longer than its full-blooded kin.”

“But could they still see?” Silva pressed, wondering why he cared to know so much. 

Shrugging, ‘Tsylk’s look soured. “I suppose they might be able to,” he muttered, hating having to concede an inch. “Half-breeds aren’t common. The Drow tend to eat their weak offspring rather than suffer it to live and bring shame. The odds of that bandit having seen and been trounced by a half-breed are even slimmer than the chance of it being a true Drow.”

It was enough for Nicau, though. She grinned and punched the air in victory. “But it  _ is  _ possible!” she crowed. “That means there’s no way for you to disprove it! Half is still Drow enough to me, so it counts!” 

As much as he agreed with her, Silva couldn’t let them go around telling tales of Drow or half-Drow or any combination of the two. He cleared his throat and shook his head, gesturing to ‘Tsylk. “I have to agree with them, actually,” he said ignoring how the pretentious elf preened. “The chance of it being less than full Drow is miniscule. The bandit probably was trying to save face. You know how they get, the higher the bounty on them the more they blame others when they get caught. “

“Thank you,” the elf said pointedly, looking up at the ceiling. “Finally, someone speaks sense.”

“I wouldn’t go around spreading more rumors like that,” Silva said to Nicau, suffering her glare in silence. “It’ll just scare people and spread the sentries even thinner trying to police the roads for some fictional Drow.”

Nicau crossed her arms. “Fine,” she bit, refusing to look at either of them. “I can see I’m outnumbered here anyway.”

There was a clearing of a throat behind them, and Silva turned to see the vendor had returned, the counter now piled high with vials and pouches. “Sir, I have your order,” he said, politely. “If you’d care to check that I’ve gotten everything?”

“Come on, Nicau,” ‘Tsylk huffed, forgetting Silva easily enough. “Surely you’ll listen to reason now. Help me carry these, would you? I think it’s time we joined back up with the others.”

Silva left them to their grumbling, taking in his own purchases with a keen eye. All of Chrollo’s things had been bottled up and sealed, bundled in a thick cloth to keep them from coming into contact with the food Silva had ordered. There was a slab of meat, some jerky, some bread, and a few other foodstuffs. Everything looked in order.

“How much for the lot of this?” he asked, pulling out his money pouch. The gold was heavy in his palm, shining dully in the dim room. 

Taking his chin in his hand, the vendor eyed the stack in front of him. “I’d say you’ve got at least six gold worth of goods here, and with the herbs and potions, it’ll take it up to seventeen.” He glanced at Silva as if expecting him to balk at the hefty fee. 

Silva just counted out the coins, letting them fall onto the counter in a clump. “Thanks,” he said, tying his pouch back to his hip. He swung his bag off his shoulder and began to pack away the goods, making sure that the poisons were well away from the food in case something broke along the way. 

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” the vendor began, cutting himself off when Silva looked up pointedly. Swallowing, he tried again with a smile. “It’s just that you don’t seem like the type to need herbs. So I was just curious–”

“You were curious why I bought so much poison,” Silva finished for him, hefting the bag back onto his shoulder. It was now considerably heavier. “It’s not for me. Someone I’m traveling with asked me to fetch them for him. Don’t think on it.”

From the look on the man’s face, that was easier said than done. Silva decided to make it easier on him by turning on his heel and leaving, exiting the shop just as the sun began to dip below the edge of the trees encircling the village. It cast a shadow along the town. Silva let out a sigh, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. It would be nice to stop for a drink too, but he didn’t trust Chrollo to stay put should it grow dark. 

With that thought in mind, he turned away from the taverns and smoke and back towards the forest, walking twice the speed he had used to get here for fear of what might be waiting for him back at camp. The vials in his bag jingled and sang as he moved, and the birds overhead serenaded him on his way. The way they sang spoke of pleasant things, but Silva knew that rain was on the way from the chill in the breeze. It carded through his hair, sending a shiver down his spine. They would need to make good time tomorrow if they wanted to outrun the storm on its way. 

Running a hand through his wind-swept hair, Silva sighed, ducking into the trees and leaving the road behind. He never used to have to think about things like this. Before, if he sensed the weather about to turn, he would hole up in a town or walk all night to avoid it. But now, with a companion to worry about and the added issue of his race on top of it, things weren’t quite as simple any more. It was as annoying as it was charming, in a sense. It had been a long time since Silva had been forced to be creative while he traveled. 

When Silva entered the camp, he expected to see flames, destruction, or at the very least, Chrollo laid out on the ground, dead or dying from his poisons. Instead, he found destruction of a different kind. The camp had become a mess of vials, detritus, and junk, Chrollo in the epicenter balancing a vial on his knee as he scribbled something down in his notebook. His dark leather trousers were speckled with a glimmering, purple dust, his fingers white with some other powder. Silva had no illusions that it was safe, and he kept his distance as he approached, making sure to keep down wind in case the dust felt the need to move. 

“I’m back,” he called out, watching Chrollo jump, the vial on his knee nearly tumbling into the grass. 

“Shit,” Chrollo swore, catching it carefully before he glared at Silva. “A little warning next time? I thought you were going to be back later. That didn’t take long at all.”

Silva rolled his eyes, cautiously approaching but keeping to the edges of the camp to work his way towards the fire. He settled the heavy pack down and began to unload the purchases. “I told you I’d only be a few hours,” he said, shaking his head when he saw that even the fire was a mess from whatever Chrollo had been doing. The coals were scattered across the ground, just barely staying lit. “What the hell did you get up to while I was gone?” he asked, using a stick to gather the coals back up, coaxing them back to life. 

Chrollo turned to face him, pouting like the brat he was. “I was working,” he sniffed, lifting up the vial and holding it up to the sunlight, his free hand still writing furiously. “We all have our methods.”

“Well, I can tell you right now that my methods don’t involve trashing the camp,” Silva grumbled, eyes narrowed as the sun caught Chrollo’s lovely face. He didn’t so much as flinch in the sunlight, bringing the words of the elf back to the forefront of Silva’s mind. 

“I can’t help it if you can’t understand my genius, Silva,” Chrollo huffed, glancing past his work to raise a brow at Silva. 

Silva stared until Chrollo began to fidget. The Drow’s hands fumbled on the vial, and he cursed softly, letting it fall into the grass instead of trying to catch it. Smoke rose up where the spilled liquid dropped. “What is it?” Chrollo bit, looking up to glare at Silva. “Why do you keep staring at me?” He looked down at his ruined poison, kicking at the coated vial. “You made me ruin it, you ass.”

“Are you full Drow?”

Chrollo froze like a deer before a predator. It was clear that he hadn’t expected to be asked that. “Why?” he demanded, his face blank now, giving away nothing. “What makes you ask that now?”

“I heard some things in town. It made me curious. You’re born and raised beneath the earth, right? I would think the sunlight would present more of a hardship. Not to mention your coloring. A Drow with dark hair isn’t a common sight, is it?” Silva rested on his haunches, arms crossed, keeping his tone light. “I’m not trying to out you, or trick you somehow. I’m just curious why you never told me before.”

Chrollo was silent, his every muscle tensed. Silva kept himself relaxed, feeling as if he were staring down a wild animal liable to attack should he show any sign of antagonism. “What prompted you to ask?” he demanded quietly. “What were people saying in town? Did someone see me?”

“What? No.” Silva looked off past Chrollo, into the trees. “I overheard some people talking about some Drow on the loose, one that’s got a bounty on their head. I figured it was just talk spread by that bandit we turned in a while back, since you’re the only Drow he’s likely to have seen. The elf I heard it from made mention of it being odd that some Drow was up and causing havoc during the day.” He looked back at Chrollo, watching the tension slowly bleed from his figure. “So I got curious how it is you’re faring so well like this.”

Crossing his arms, Chrollo kicked again at the grass like a child. “You’re pretty dumb if you only just started to wonder about that,” he muttered, reaching out a hand to poke and prod at his potions and vials. A breeze went by, carding through his silky hair. Chrollo tucked a lock behind his ear, glancing back up at Silva. 

“No,” Chrollo said sourly, a bit of poison smudged along his cheekbone. “I’m not full Drow.” 

“So?” he pushed when nothing else was forthcoming. “What are you then?”

Chrollo rolled his eyes. “First of all, you shouldn’t ask someone  _ what  _ they are. I’m a person, Silva, just like you.”

Silva hoisted himself back onto his feet, moving closer, the poison still coating the Drow be damned. “You know what I mean,” he sighed. “Don’t give me an ethics lesson, Chrollo. Just answer the question. Or don’t. I’m not making you tell me.”

He shot Silva a look that said otherwise. “I don’t know for sure what I am,” Chrollo sighed, falling back onto the grass in a loose sprawl. He stared up at the forest canopy, looking drained. “I wasn’t born in the Underdark, but I ended up there. I look Drow enough to pass as full down there, even if my  _ coloring _ is off. It set me apart, which isn’t always good, but Hisoka liked it, so there’s that.”

“Does Hisoka know?”

Chrollo rolled his eyes. “He’s not the type to care about such things,” he said. “Blood, status, wealth– None of it matters to him. He cares about power above everything. I’m strong enough to keep up with him, and that’s what matters in the end.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. It just made Silva all the more curious about Chrollo and his past. His dark eyes met Silva’s, his smile small. “Do you think I’m part human? I really haven’t been able to tell.”

Silva laughed, grateful for the change in topic. “You’re awfully small,” he teased. “Probably part Dwarf.”

“But I don’t have body hair,” Chrollo chuckled, crossing his arms behind his head. The next look he gave Silva was smoldering. “But you knew that already.”

The day was mild but Silva felt himself sweat. “Gnome then.” He turned away from Chrollo laid out so temptingly in the grass and set to unpacking the supplies he had just bought. “I’m going to start supper. Are your poisons cleaned up or do I need to worry about killing us both if I use the cooking pot?”

Chrollo’s laugh flowed like honey along the warm summer breeze. He rolled onto his side and propped his head up with a delicate hand, his smile soft and innocent. “Both of us?” he wondered, tapping at his full bottom lip. “Last I checked, I’m immune. So I suppose it’s really up to your discretion, Silva.”

“I’m going to boil a pot full of water and dump it on you if you keep up those jokes of yours, brat,” Silva grunted. He went ahead and put the pot beside the fire coals, pulling out his knife and the meat he had bought in town. “Let’s see how immune you are to that.”

“You’re so much fun, Silva,” Chrollo sighed, pushing himself off the ground and back onto his feet. “But that does remind me. I saw a river nearby, so I’m going to go bathe while you do that. Feel free to use the stuff I picked up today. It’s over near my bedroll.” He snatched up his pack and waved cheekily, blowing a kiss just to make Silva glare. “I won’t be long. Try not to poison yourself on anything while I’m gone. You’d probably die before you reached me for an antidote.” 

Well, that was certainly comforting. Silva glared at Chrollo’s retreating figure, and then when he looked back at the heating pot, he wondered if it really was safe. It certainly didn’t look poisoned, but he saw the types Chrollo made. A lot of them were clear, indistinguishable from water. His frown grew more pronounced. 

Taking a quick look to make sure Chrollo really was gone, he lifted the pot and smelled it. It smelled like tinny metal and nothing, and Silva figured he’d have to content himself with the fact that Chrollo wasn’t in the habit of letting food go to waste. If it really were poisoned, it would ruin Chrollo’s dinner and kill his cook. That would be an awful lot to lose just for the sake of a joke. 

Silva rolled his eyes and set to cutting up the meat. It had been a long day already, and it wasn’t even late afternoon. Tomorrow would probably be even more draining, given the new bounties he had picked up. He’d need to go over those with Chrollo too while they ate. A few were more dangerous than the others they had done together, so coordination would be even more important. Silva rolled his shoulders, putting the meat aside to wipe at his brow with the backside of his hand. He hoped Chrollo could handle it. 

With the meat cut, he wiped off his knife and looked around the makeshift camp. Chrollo had been scavenging for his herbs and bugs, and the bag near his bedroll was filled with what Silva hoped were all wild edibles found along the way. He got up and brought it over near the fire, digging through it for things he knew for sure were good. Some tubers, some wild carrots, a few mushrooms – Silva would be the first to admit that Chrollo knew far more about wild vegetation than him, but trust was a hard thing to give when it came to the things he was putting in his stomach. He pulled out what he knew and set the rest aside, dicing up the vegetables just as he had done to the meat. If Chrollo wanted to eat the rest, he could put it in once Silva had already eaten his fill. 

With everything cut up and ready, Silva grabbed the pot and looked for the canteen. The camp really was a mess; Chrollo’s things were scattered around, the purchases from town still in various piles upon the ground. He managed to spot the canteen with a bit of effort, finding it buried beneath Chrollo’s bed roll. 

Silva frowned the moment he picked it up. A shake revealed it to be empty but for a few stray drops, not even remotely enough to get boiling for the stew. Chrollo must have used all the water to make his potion refills. Silva sighed and rose to his feet, the canteen and the pot both in hand. There was a river nearby, the Drow had said. What a pain, especially after all the walking he had already done today. 

Chrollo had gone east, so Silva set off in that direction, listening for the telltale sound of moving water. The forest was growing quiet now, the day turning to evening and the sun sinking lower in the sky. Soon the dark would come. Silva sighed, pushing past a low hanging branch. It was going to be such a pain to cook in the dark. How far was the river? Chrollo probably hadn’t expected Silva to follow, so he hadn’t felt a need to give a distance.  

Then again, Chrollo hadn’t felt a need to tell Silva about himself either. Silva gritted his teeth and stepped over a log, ignoring the insects buzzing around his head just as he ignored the stab of frustration his thoughts were producing. It didn’t matter much, one way or another. Chrollo could be part Orc and Silva’s job would still be the same. There was no contract stating that Chrollo had to be upfront with him. 

Despite all of that, Silva still would have liked knowing. Hisoka knew and he hadn’t cared, so why hadn’t Chrollo told Silva? Did he think he would care? Perhaps they weren’t close enough for that sort of sharing, he mused. They only fucked like rabbits every night.

The sound of water cut off his thoughts before they could grow any more bitter. He shoved himself through a thick patch of bushes and came out along the river bank, the river rolling sedately by, the waters as clear as crystal and the bank empty of all signs of life. Silva furrowed his brow when he spotted Chrollo’s pack in the soft sand near a tree. Where had the Drow gone?

“Chrollo?” he called out, making for the water. Chrollo’s clothes were draped over some large rocks, drying in the sun. Maybe he had swam down the river a bit more? Silva wasn’t overly familiar of this area, but he was fairly sure there weren’t any river creatures to worry about.

He sighed when nothing answered him but the birds and the river. Chrollo would come back when he felt like it, he supposed. Moving towards the water, Silva knelt beside the water’s edge and began to fill the canteen first. It was hard to judge the depth here with the water so clear. If it weren’t getting so late, he would consider bathing himself, too. Maybe tomorrow, he thought, stoppering up the canteen and setting it in the sand. They could stand to head out a bit late for something like that, surely. 

His ruminations were cut off a moment later by a pair of hands on his shoulders, a teasing kiss against his neck, and then a rough push that sent him head first into the unexpectedly deep water. It really had been stupid to assume Chrollo wasn’t nearby. 

It took an embarrassingly long time to find the surface, and even longer for Silva to manage to stop coughing once he had managed to breach it. Silva found his footing on the slick rocks and moved the wet hair from his eyes, glaring up at the naked Drow gloating from the river bank. 

“Come to peep on me?” Chrollo laughed, his voice just heard over the sound of the churning, splashing water. Chrollo cocked his head and seemed to preen beneath Silva’s gaze, stretching luxuriously in the sun, showing off every inch of his dark, tantalizing skin. There were leaves caught in his hair, and that told Silva well enough where Chrollo had been hiding. “Can’t even bathe without you trying to cop a feel. What an unscrupulous man you are, Silva.”

Silva wondered if the severity of his glare was dulled by the sight of him drenched like a bedraggled cat caught out in a storm. He started to slosh his way towards the bank, snatching up the floating pot from where it had fallen in the river. “You  _ brat _ ,” he hissed, hating that Chrollo just smiled prettily at him. “You’re going to pay for that.”

Instead of being afraid, or even apologetic, Chrollo just laughed again, stepping into the water. “Oh, am I?” he wondered, the water enveloping him wantingly. Silva paused midstep, mouth going dry as he watched Chrollo’s approach. The Drow’s slender hands tangled in his own hair, pushing it back as he dipped below the water, wetting it so that it lay out of his eyes. It was striking how much it changed the shape of his face, painting him as something darkly seductive and mildly dangerous more than the young, pretty creature he normally was. 

It took the clearing of his throat to gather the ability to say something. Silva tore his eyes from Chrollo’s chest, from his soft lip caught between his sharp white teeth, and Silva forced himself to ignore everything but Chrollo’s dark eyes. “Yes,” he grunted, feeling hot. “Don’t try to distract me. It won’t work.”

Chrollo took a step closer, his brow raised. “Distract you?” He smiled in a way that made Silva take a half-step back. “Why, Silva,” he breathed, letting his hands fall to his own chest. “Are you feeling distracted?”

Dangerous. This was dangerous. Silva swallowed the urge to back up, standing his ground even as the beautiful creature drew closer. The light glinted off Chrollo’s silky hair, highlighting notes of blue within the black. Like a crow’s feathers, they shone like ink before a fire. Chrollo reached him with just a ripple of water, resting his delicate hands on Silva’s chest. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Silva asked, hair dripping, boots soaked, and yet unable to move for the building want growing somewhere in his loins. 

“I thought I was bathing,” Chrollo said, batting his long lashes. Droplets of water clung to them like crystals. “But I suppose now that you’re here, I’m seducing you.” He lifted himself onto his toes, bringing his soft lips just a hair’s breadth from Silva’s. Breath warm, eyes half-mast, he let out a pretty little sigh before looking into Silva’s eyes. “Is it working?” he whispered, speaking the words against Silva’s lips. 

Silva dropped the pot, his hands fixing themselves to Chrollo’s narrow hips. “Not even slightly,” he tried to growl, but it came out low, far lower than he had meant it to. Chrollo shivered at the sound, his cheeks tinting with his blush. It was completely unfair how good the Drow looked. Silva held onto his hips tighter, making him gasp. Entirely unfair. 

“You’re lying,” Chrollo breathed, his smile so cocky. He glanced down between their bodies, seeing for himself how hard Silva already was. The outline of his cock was prominent through the wet fabric, even more so when pressed against Chrollo’s thigh. “It’s not good to lie,” Chrollo chastised, reaching his hand between them to fondle Silva. 

“It’s not good to be a brat to the one making your dinner,” Silva returned, a shiver running down his spine. Chrollo’s hand was confident in its movements, stroking along the length of him with the flat of his hand. Were they seriously doing this here? Now? Dinner was going to be late. 

When Chrollo saw fit to pull him from his trousers completely, all care disappeared. Chrollo licked his lips and hummed, his hand wrapping around Silva and pumping him lazily. “Is that what you’re doing?” he murmured, looking up with a smile that dripped with faux innocence. “I could have sworn you were peeping.”

“Why would I ever need to peep when you dress the way you do?” Silva shook his head and sighed, the pleasure heady already. Dark fingers trailed along the head of his cock, teasing the slit. A rush of heat swelled through him, barely cooled at all by the water lapping against his body. “I needed water, you brat. You used it all with your poisons.”

“Doesn’t look like that’s all you need,” the Drow teased, letting go of Silva to rest his hands on his shoulders. Chrollo brought his lips to Silva’s ear, his breath warm and just a tickle against his skin. “You got so excited. So easily, too. What a weak man you are. I don’t know if I should be flattered or pitying.” 

“You should finish what you started, is what you should do,” Silva said tightly, kissing a line up Chrollo’s bared throat. His skin was warm, fragrant in that strange, foreign way it always was. The scent filled Silva’s head and drove him faster, rubbing himself against Chrollo’s naked thigh in want for the hand that wouldn’t come back. His nipped Chrollo’s pulse point, and then laved it with his tongue, loving how Chrollo gasped sharply in his ear. 

Laughing shakily, Chrollo held tighter to Silva’s shoulders. “Why should I have to when you’re the one who followed me?” he asked, already hard himself. 

On instinct, Silva wanted to make some barb about it being polite, but he held back once he remembered that little was polite about the Drow. Even if Chrollo had no intention of making good on the promises his body was making, Silva knew well enough that he could still get what he wanted. He drew his hand down Chrollo’s body, letting his nails scratch and cut lightly into his soft skin. Chrollo moaned brokenly, drunk on the pain like the little freak he was. 

“Because I’ll finish it myself if you don’t,” Silva said, speaking the words lowly against Chrollo’s pierced ear. He kissed the lobe and bit down on it gently before leaving it be. His mouth was Silva’s ultimate goal, his lips parted and so temptingly flushed just an inch from his cheek. Silva didn’t care much between kissing them or fucking them, but he wanted Chrollo’s mouth and he wasn’t going to wait to get it. 

For a moment, Chrollo seemed more than willing to indulge him. His dark eyes fell to half-mast, his tongue wetting his lips in a slow, seductive pass. But, at the last second, Chrollo turned, Silva’s lips just brushing past his cheek. The Drow smiled, teeth sharp and shiny white. “What a foolish man you are,” he laughed, looking back up at Silva. “Kissing me? I’ve been playing with poisons all day. Do you really want to risk it?” 

Silva swallowed, self-preservation at an all time low when knee-deep in his lust. “You can’t be serious,” he murmured, still rolling his cock against Chrollo’s thigh. “There’s no way your saliva has enough of a concentration to affect me.” The Drow was smooth all over, not a trace of hair on his body save what he had on his head. The softness was more than addicting. 

Chrollo hummed, leaning back in to nuzzle Silva’s cheek like a tease. “Tolerance is such a finicky thing, isn’t it? Who knows how much you could handle before your body goes into shock?” He drew his lips along Silva’s cheek, up to his ear, the touch tingling. “I could kill you with a kiss. Such romance. What a shame you’d only be able to experience it once.”

Silva growled, taking Chrollo by the ass and squeezing him like a warning. “You’re lying again, aren’t you? Nothing will happen if I kiss you.”

Gasping prettily, his lips wet and wanting, Chrollo smiled. “Awful lot to risk if I’m not,” he said, batting his dark lashes. 

That was their dynamic, wasn’t it? Silva gritted his teeth and stared at Chrollo’s lips, trying to discern the poison from the plush, wet, inviting picture he made. Dangerous. Chrollo was dangerous, but Silva felt himself already addicted. Silva cupped Chrollo’s cheek and stroked across his lips with a thumb. Soft. Warm. As tempting as the ripe red of toxic fruit and just as easily plucked. Silva dipped down and paused a hair’s breadth from Chrollo’s lips, holding the Drow in place so he couldn’t pull away again.

Chrollo’s lips curled into a smile. 

Silva felt himself fall all the faster.

“I’ve risked more for less,” Silva breathed, kissing Chrollo’s smile without another moment of hesitation. There were worse ways to die than this. Far, far worse. The water cooled while the kiss burned, the fervor from before building up like pressure needing to blow. Chrollo wrapped himself around Silva’s body, still smiling, still laughing, still loving his little games, as deadly as they may be. 

And when Chrollo parted his lips and moaned, Silva knew he would be content if this were the way he fell. And if it was a lie, a true lie…

There was no better time to start building a tolerance, was there?


	5. Chapter Four

“But Silva,” Chrollo whined, tugging at the human’s sleeve. “Silva, it’s going to rain tonight.”

Silva let out a growl of a sigh, again making Chrollo wonder if the man were part werewolf. “And?” he said dryly, glancing down at Chrollo with pitiless eyes. “We’ve slept out in the rain before.”

Chrollo leaned even harder on Silva’s arm. “Yeah, we did, because there was no town nearby,” he said, digging in his heels to make Silva stop walking. “There’s one near right now! Shouldn’t we be proactive? Shouldn’t we take up fortune’s offer when presented with a better option?” He pouted up at Silva, hugging his thick arm to his chest to keep him in place. “Please? I don’t want to spend the next week walking around with wet boots.”

“Would you rather we get chased out of a town then?” Silva asked, barely sparing him a glance. “It’s smarter to make camp now and settle in for when it hits, not risk being caught with nothing just because you decided to be a brat about dry boots. Of which I might add, I don’t have already after your little river prank.”

Frowning, Chrollo smacked Silva’s shoulder. “I fail to see how it’s bratty to want my feet to be dry for once. And you got what was coming to you. Don’t act like I didn’t make it up to you,” he sniped, pushing off the hunter’s arm to cut him off instead. Chrollo planted himself in front of Silva, standing his ground with his arms crossed. “ I’m offended that you have such poor faith in me and my ability to keep a low profile. I’m not incompetent, you know. I can blend in.”

The look Silva shot him was patently unimpressed. He moved to walk around Chrollo, but when Chrollo darted over to block him, he stopped entirely, sighing loudly. “Would you stop?” he snapped, his cold blue eyes narrowing. 

“Would you?” Chrollo moved closer, craning his neck to look Silva in the eye. “You aren’t scary. Growling at me and calling me names won’t make me listen to you, so stop treating me like a child. Are you really so scared of being seen with me?”

Taking pot shots at Silva’s manliness only seemed to rankle him further. “People are hunting for a Drow, Chrollo,” Silva said, gesturing angrily. “Do you really think they’re not going to think you’re the one with the bounty?”

Rolling his eyes, Chrollo grabbed Silva by the front of his shirt and tugged him in the direction of the town. The hunter stumbled after him, caught off guard enough to be easily led. “Don’t underestimate me, Silva,” Chrollo murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the man. “If something happens, blame it all on me. I won’t even argue with you next time you order me around. But I’m not going to sleep outside in the rain again just because you think I can’t keep a low profile.” He had managed long enough without Silva at his side, and it was insulting to think Silva doubted him so little now. 

Silva wrapped his hand around Chrollo’s wrist, pulling him off of his shirt. While Chrollo expected him to throw his hand down and stop walking, Silva instead surprised him. “Don’t think I won’t, you insufferable brat,” Silva huffed, keeping his hand firmly wrapped around Chrollo’s. “The room is coming out of your share.”

Chrollo beamed, walking all the faster now that he had his victory. “Of course,” he said, looking back to smile at Silva. “I wouldn’t dream of making you pay for common sense.”

Despite Silva grumbling the entire way to the town, Chrollo felt that the day was shaping up to be something good. The wind was picking up by the time they entered the small little village, the sky churning with black clouds that promised to open up on them at any moment. Silva slowed Chrollo by yanking on his hand, pulling him back before he could break cover from the trees. A raindrop, fat and cold, plopped onto Chrollo’s cheek when he looked up at the hunter, tugging futilely at his hand. The surface really was full of wonders. So much rain, and so often. 

“What is it now?” Chrollo asked, the raining coming faster, falling atop his head. “Come on, Silva. We’re going to get soaked.”

Silva didn’t seem to care. “This is a bad idea, and I don’t want you running off on your own.” Gesturing with his head, he motioned at the inviting looking buildings behind them. A peal of thunder punctuated his words, but even then he didn’t make a move to seek shelter. “These people won’t hesitate to turn on you.”

Chrollo frowned. “I’m well aware of that, Silva,” he said slowly, hoping that this time the man might understand. “You do know that I’m accustomed to navigating your kind. What I’m not accustomed to is standing out in the rain as my partner lectures me about the pitfalls of my race.”

“I’m not trying to lecture you, and we aren’t partners.”

Rolling his eyes, Chrollo yanked hard on his wrist, freeing himself from Silva’s overly protective grip. “Whatever,” he said, ignoring Silva’s angry huffs as he made a beeline straight for the nearest tavern. It was already getting dark, the sounds of laughter and bellowing voices audible from the streets even with the storm riling up. “I’m getting a drink,” Chrollo called out over his shoulder, throwing his hood up over his head lazily. “Feel free to come get one with me once you’ve learned how to have a little fun.”

Silva shouted something at his back, but Chrollo didn’t bother listening for it. He pushed through the door and into the crowded, raucous bar, the scent of warm bodies and cheap ale filling his every sense. Every table looked filled, many meandering in the aisles, standing against walls or leaning on tables as they talked and laughed and enjoyed the good company. Chrollo entered without much fanfare, weaving through the crowd until he reached the bar, water sloughing off his cloak as he moved. The light was low and most everyone looked fairly buzzed. He doubted anyone would throw a fit at the sight of him unless he did something egregious. 

Waving down the red-faced bartender, Chrollo had his money on the table, his hands at his sides, and a smile on his face before he tried to order. “I’ll have some mead, please,” he said over the thrum of the bar behind him. 

The bartender didn’t do much more than take up his money and grab him a mug. Or at least, he didn’t at first. When he moved to slide the mug over to Chrollo, he must have caught sight of his face, or his skin. The mead slopped over the side of the cup when he jerked it to a stop, gaping. Chrollo tried to smile carefully. Non-threateningly. 

“And what do you think you’re doing in here?” the barkeep hissed, giving furtive looks down the line of the bar, making sure no one else had seen him. “We don’t serve your kind! Get out before you cause a riot! I can’t afford to refurbish the place just because you thought it a good idea to come where decent people gather.”

Well, it was better than an outwardly hostile reaction. Maybe he needed to come off as anything but a threat. Chrollo pouted, batting his lashes a little. Seduction usually worked where common decency failed. “Please?” he tried, leaning forward a bit on the bar. It was hard to show off his body like this, rain-soaked and hidden in his cloak as he was, but he did his best. “It’s pouring outside. I just want something to warm me up before I have to go back out for the night. Just one drink is all I’m asking. I’ve already paid.” 

The barkeep narrowed his eyes, and Chrollo didn’t miss how they trailed down his body, pausing on his clavicles. He drummed his fingers on the side of the mug. “Just one, you say?” he verified shrewdly. “And then it’s out with you?”

“I promise,” Chrollo said, though he meant to do no such thing. He was going to sleep in a proper bed tonight. He didn’t care how he had to go about getting it. 

The mug was pushed closer to him, and then drawn away before Chrollo’s fingertips even brushed it. “And you’ll keep that cloak on mighty tight, too,” the barkeep stipulated, giving another look down the bar. “And sit in the back.”

Chrollo rolled his eyes, about to agree when a warm, solid mass came up behind him, leaning against his back. Chrollo froze. “He’ll sit with me,” came Silva’s low growl, his hand fixing itself to Chrollo’s hip proprietarily. “And he’ll have as many drinks as he wants.” 

A victorious grin split Chrollo’s lips. “Oh?” he asked, looking up to take in Silva upside down. “And will you be paying for them?” 

The hand on his hip went tight. “Don’t push it, brat,” Silva gritted. 

The barkeep was anything but entertained. “Excuse me?” he said, crossing his arms. He was a large man, but not as large as Silva no matter how hard he tried to posture. “And who are you to be making rules in my bar?”

Silva tossed down a handful of gold. It clattered loudly enough to draw more than a few eyes, and Chrollo ducked behind Silva as carefully as he could, hoping to minimize the fallout should the bar turn on them. “The Drow sits and drinks with me,” Silva repeated, his large hand covering the mug of mead easily, dragging it back over to him. 

The barkeep looked ready to pop. His face was red, more from being ordered than from the stipulations. He gathered up the gold and nodded shortly, drawing it all off the counter and into a pouch on his hip. “If there’s even  _ one  _ issue, I throw you both out,” he said through clenched teeth. “And I better not notice any of my china missing,  _ Drow _ . Or there will be hell to pay.”

Chrollo didn’t have a chance to defend himself, if he even wanted to try. Silva took him by the shoulder and turned him around, leading him through the crowd and to an empty table. “More trouble than you’re worth,” Silva muttered under his breath, but Chrollo knew he didn’t mean it. 

“Thank you for that,” he murmured, glancing up at Silva. “Not many people would have stood up for me.”

“It’s fine. Sit down,” Silva told him, pushing him into a seat with a hand on his shoulder. Silva slid the drinks onto the table in front of him, giving the barkeep one last glare before sitting down himself. Chrollo took his mead in hand and sipped the cool liquid, warmth following every swallow. “Are you hungry?” Silva asked, meeting his eye. “We haven’t eaten yet this evening.”

Chrollo shook his head. He was more cold than hungry, more tired than either. It was nice to be able to sit, to drink, but Chrollo would have preferred being closer to the fire. Every time the door opened, a breeze blew past, chilling him and his damp clothes until he shivered. “I’m glad for the drink,” he murmured to Silva, shifting a little closer to the man. “I just… this place still isn’t very comfortable for me.”

“What’s wrong?” Silva asked.

“Aside from the obvious reasons? It’s chilly in here with this on,” he admitted, tugging a little at his soaked cloak. They were far from the roaring hearth, and Chrollo knew it would take a lot more than a few drinks to make his clothes dry and his body warm. 

Silva raised a brow. “Then take it off.” The way he said it made it sound like the obvious choice. 

“I can’t. If everyone sees me, they’ll probably start rioting.” Chrollo ran his fingers along the old wood grain of the table. “You remember when we first met. That’s not a rare occurrence, Silva. I’ve been chased out of pretty much every bar I’ve ever been in up here.”

A warm, heavy hand covered Chrollo’s on the table. He looked up at Silva, and Silva smiled. “You weren’t with me before,” he said, his other hand coming up to untie the knot at Chrollo’s throat. 

It was probably the drink that kept Chrollo from protesting the removal of his cloak. That and the reassuring warmth of Silva against his thigh, on his hand. He leaned against the table and stretched, his skin finally able to breathe. Silva draped his cloak over another chair, his hand falling to Chrollo’s bare spine, soothing and warm. Chrollo could feel the stares already, but there were no screams, no shouts. He laid against the table, trusting Silva to keep it that way. 

“It’s nicer now, but still. I think I’d prefer changing clothes and being away from the stares. Why don’t you get us a room?” Chrollo asked, leaning his head on his arm to look at Silva, letting his exhaustion show a little through his inviting smile. “You won’t make me sleep out in the rain again, will you?”

“I should, considering all the trouble you’ve put me through. Your idea of a low-profile is very different than mine,” Silva said, taking a drink from Chrollo’s half-finished mead. Chrollo tugged at his wrist until he gave it back, drinking from it quickly before Silva could finish it all. “They probably won’t let me rent a room if they know you’re with me. Gold got us this far, but these people do have their limits.”

Chrollo set his empty mug on the table, warmth blooming from his cheeks to his toes. “Really? Just because you came in here with me,” he said, looking out at the bar around them. A few people were staring, a few men near the far corner looking as if they weren’t quite sure what to think about him being there. 

Grunting, Silva let out a breath, looking anything but eager to leave again. “This is why I told you that you couldn’t be hasty,” he said, crossing his arms. “If you had just kept your face hidden, I could have figured something out. This wouldn’t have been an issue if you hadn’t forced me to intervene. Now we’re both going to be blacklisted.”

Why Silva cared about being blacklisted from one tavern when Chrollo was barred from a dozen, Chrollo didn’t know. But, if it were simply a matter of them being associated with each other, there were plenty of ways around that. “Well, Silva,” Chrollo said, turning back to smile at Silva. “That’s easy enough to fix. Sorry in advance.”

“What-?” Silva didn’t get the chance to ask. Chrollo drew back his hand and slapped the hunter soundly across the cheek, kicking back the chair to stand up. 

“I never want to see your face again!” Chrollo shouted, eyes dancing as he stomped his foot. “I’m not some toy for you to play with when you get bored!” He snatched up his cloak and the nearly empty cup, throwing the remaining drink in Silva’s face for good measure. “Fuck you, I don’t need this.” 

It was hilarious, frankly, how Silva seemed to lock up as all eyes fell on him. He gaped and held his cheek dumbly, looking at Chrollo for guidance. Chrollo rolled his eyes. It really wasn’t that hard to see what he was planning. 

“Nothing to say for yourself?” he continued with a glower, waiting for Silva to add to it. It wouldn’t be believable if he just sat there like an idiot. Silva’s lips curled into a frown. Chrollo made it work. “Fine. Be that way. I’ll find someone else to buy me drinks. Someone who  _ appreciates  _ me!”

All eyes were on him, Silva’s included as he stomped off, going to the far end of the bar and throwing himself down at the end of a semi-populated table. Chrollo wasn’t an idiot, he gave himself a wide berth from the majority of the other patrons, keeping just close enough for any curious, brave types to gather up the courage to approach him. Silva, meanwhile, came back to life when a napkin was held out to him, a concerned barmaid no doubt asking him if he were alright. 

“I’m fine,” Silva said, Chrollo reading his lips. He wiped off his face with a scowl, rising from the seat to head back over to the barkeep who looked positively gleeful that Silva had gotten what was coming to him. Chrollo left Silva to play his part, turning back to take in the eyes on him. Chrollo would need to play his part too if he wanted the barkeep to believe that they were no longer together. 

Putting on his most despondent expression, Chrollo laid his cloak in the seat beside him and rubbed at his arms as if on the verge of tears. It didn’t matter what people thought of him, of what he was. Chrollo knew the prevailing belief that went hand in hand with Drow distaste, and he knew that seducing someone was far, far easier than trying to change someone’s underlying prejudice. He glimpsed through his fringe at all who were staring at him, and it only took a moment to see three men off in the corner whispering to each other, the one in the center’s grin nearly luminous in the dim bar. 

Chrollo was quick to pretend he hadn’t been watching when the man’s friend shoved him forward, towards Chrollo’s lonely corner. On the outside he was near tears, but internally Chrollo was already gloating. This was going to be criminally easy. 

“Hey,” a low voice greeted, and Chrollo gave a few sniffs before lowering his hands. The man before him was tall and willowy, his long hair tied up at the base of his neck in a thick braid. “I saw what happened. Can I buy you a drink?”

Wiping at his eyes, Chrollo gave him a watery smile. “Oh, that’s so nice of you,” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “I’m so embarrassed about all of that. Please, won’t you sit with me? We could drink together.”

The man blinked and Chrollo realized that this man hadn’t expected Chrollo to be so polite. He recovered well, nodding his head and slipping into the seat at Chrollo’s side. Lifting a hand, he signalled the barmaid for two drinks before looking back at the Drow. “So uh, I don’t think I’ve ever met a Drow before. I thought you were all… a lot less…” He gestured with his hand, looking to Chrollo for help. 

“Kind? Well-behaved? I don’t drink the blood of children, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Chrollo said, laughing like it was a joke though he knew that was exactly what the man was wondering. A drink was sat down in front of him and he drank half in one pull, needing it for this next part. He could see over the man’s shoulder how Silva argued with the barkeep, how their eyes kept darting back over to Chrollo’s corner. “But enough about me,” Chrollo said, looking back to his target. “You’re so kind, I should be the one asking about you.”

“Oh, well, I uh…” The man’s eyes went wide when Chrollo leaned forward, resting his hand on the man’s chest. He rallied well, grinning lecherously. “I just can’t stand to see a pretty face in distress. Especially such an uh… exotic beauty like yourself. It’d be criminal.”

Chrollo had to take another drink just to keep himself from grimacing. “How kind of you,” he said, batting his eyes. Setting his cup back down, he leaned closer, his hand moving lower now, resting on the man’s thigh. “You know, I’ve never been so close to a human before. You’re so much warmer than I expected.”

A hand settled on his shoulder, the man growing confident. “Really? Not even that asshole you came in here with?” Behind his back Chrollo could see Silva grunting something to the barkeep, the barkeep’s attention locked solely on Chrollo. He wanted proof. Chrollo would give him all the proof he needed. There was no way in hell Chrollo was sleeping outside tonight. 

All it took was a calculated shimmy of his hips to put Chrollo in the man’s lap. He let gravity do the work for him, his chin hooking over the man’s shoulder, his lips right at his ear. “Not even him,” Chrollo whispered, smiling as the stranger wrapped his arms eagerly around Chrollo under the pretense of keeping him upright. “He couldn’t handle me. He didn’t deserve to have me in his arms.” 

The man was hard. Chrollo’s eyes went wide at the realization. The man was hard and aroused and Chrollo could feel his dick against his thigh, his hot, sweaty hands scrambling against Chrollo’s naked spine. “I can get us a room,” the man said in a rush, pulling Chrollo back just enough to meet his eyes. “I can get us a room right now, if you’d like.” 

“I think I’d like that very much,” Chrollo smiled, kissing the man on the cheek. He paused by his ear again, letting out a breathy sigh. “I’m sure you could handle me all night long.”

Chrollo nearly fell to the floor with how fast the man stood. He righted himself with a laugh and shooed off the suitor towards the bar where he then quickly shoved Silva to the side, asking for a room the barkeep wouldn’t give so long as he intended to sleep with the Drow. Chrollo finished off the remaining drink and watched, grinning, as Silva pushed the man to the side and asked again for the room. The barkeep threw up his hands and tossed him a key, waving him off as he dealt with the new problem. Just as predicted. Criminally easy. 

He met eyes with Silva, smiling at him with a nod. “Room seven,” Silva mouthed to him before disappearing down the hall towards the rooms. Chrollo sat down the mug and grabbed up his cloak, wrapping the cold, damp fabric around himself for one last jaunt outside. With one more glance given towards his suitor, Chrollo was off, ducking out the door before he could be stopped or seen. 

The rain was coming down much harder now, the night fully descended and any stars or moonlight swallowed up in the deluge. Chrollo made his way around the back of the tavern and wiped the water from his eyes, counting windows. Room seven could mean a lot of things, but if he were to hazard a guess, it was probably located on the second or third floors. He touched the rough brick exterior of the building and bit his lip. It would be smarter to go to the third and work his way down on the off chance that he met someone. 

It was scaling this in the rain that was going to be the biggest challenge, but Chrollo was an old hand at breaking into places, and he made quick work of the slick brick with a well-aimed rope and some gloves. He scrambled up as quickly as he could, growing wetter and wetter every second he spent outside, and jammed open a window, tumbling into the hallway on the other side. Water quickly covered the floor and Chrollo cursed, closing the window in a rush. He left it cracked a little, hoping it might explain away the wet if someone were to walk by. 

With that done, he was left trying to figure out where to go. He was in a single long hallway with a few doors along it, the far way characterized by a sharp turn that he figured led to the stairs. Chrollo quietly moved down the hall, checking each door as he went. Silva would probably be in one that was unlocked since he knew to expect company. 

“Silva?” Chrollo whispered, mostly to himself but hoping that he might get lucky and be heard. In a hall like this, it was going to be impossible to hide should someone come out of a room, or even up the stairs. Chrollo tapped carefully at the doors and tried the handles as silently as he could. The one at the end was unlocked, but what if it belonged to someone else who had forgotten to lock it?

Indecision filled him and he stood there, dripping water and worry. If he were anyone else perhaps he could play it off as a mistake, as losing his sense of direction, but Chrollo knew that if he were found up here poking around the rooms, he and Silva both were liable to be thrown out into the rain. 

Unfortunately, fate wasn’t in any mood to coddle him. Chrollo startled when voices echoed up the far stairway. His heart seized and he looked for a place to hide in a hallway that had nothing. Should he just go back out the window? Wait for them to pass? A draft breezed past, chilling him to the bone. He didn’t want to go back out there. 

The voices grew louder and he looked at the doorknob in his hand. The one door on this floor that was unlocked. What were his chances? Were they good? Chrollo swallowed and saw shadows flicker against the wall at the end of the hallway. He really didn’t have time to ruminate. 

Chrollo closed his eyes and held his breath, twisting the knob and darting inside, closing the door as fast as he could. He pressed his back against the door and kept his eyes shut, wondering which god would take pity on him should he start praying. None of the ones he knew were the type to give good luck. 

“It’s about time you got here,” a familiar voice grunted, and Chrollo opened his eyes, the relief crippling. Silva was laid out on the bed, staring at him like he was crazy. “How did you know which door was mine? They’re not labeled.”

“No thanks to you, that’s how,” Chrollo breathed, leaning heavily against the door. If he listened hard he could hear the sound of footsteps as they passed by outside. It had been a close call. Far too close. 

“You’re dripping everywhere,” Silva sighed, getting up and taking Chrollo’s sodden cloak from him. He hung it up near the window and grabbed a towel left beside the water basin, drying Chrollo’s hair roughly. “Did anyone see you?”

Chrollo wrestled himself free from Silva’s fretting, taking the towel for himself to dry his face. His heart was pounding but he’d calm down soon enough now that he was safe. “No one could see anything out there, so don’t worry about it,” he said, looking at the room around them. It was small but cozy, warm and dry and protected from the elements raging outside. He kicked off his boots and threw down his bag, brushing past Silva with the intent of face planting on the bed.

Silva grabbed him by the arm before he could. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, dragging Chrollo away from the bed. 

“Well, it’s midnight and I just scaled a three story building in the pouring rain, so I figured I’d reward myself with a warm bed,” Chrollo replied, brow raised.  

“Don’t you think you have something to say to me first?”

Chrollo cocked his head, beginning to shiver. He wrapped his arms around himself. “Thank you for the towel?” he tried, tugging again at the hand holding him in place. 

Silva bared his teeth. “You let that man touch you,” he growled, taking a step closer to loom over Chrollo. “You threw a drink in my face.” 

Shrugging, Chrollo smiled innocently. “It got the job done, didn’t it?” They had a room and no one was the wiser. Chrollo had done far more for far less in the past, so why did it matter? 

But Silva didn’t seem to feel the same. He took Chrollo by the arms and pushed him back, tossing him onto the bed with little more than a flare of his nostrils for warning. 

Chrollo hit the bed with a huff of noise. “So pushy,” he complained, laying back against the sheets. They weren’t particularly soft, but they smelled clean at least. This bed in general was a far cry from what he was used to, his bedmate only adding to the disparity. Chrollo looked into Silva’s cool blue eyes, smiling. “You really can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

“Shut up,” the human grunted, crawling up to cover Chrollo with his considerable bulk. 

“You can’t even bear the thought of me flirting with another,” Chrollo laughed, letting Silva seize his hands in his much, much bigger ones. This certainly felt familiar. A shiver of anticipation licked up his spine, warm and tingly. “Don’t you know, Silva? You’re the only human for me.”

Silva stared down at him for a moment, expression hard. Chrollo didn’t let it bother him. He knew Silva well enough at this point to know that the man’s default was typically more hostile than he intended it to be. “The only  _ human _ ?” he grunted, squeezing Chrollo’s wrists tightly. 

Chrollo smiled cheekily, licking his lips and laughing when Silva’s eyes followed. “Why, naturally,” he teased, watching Silva bring a hand down his chest to run his fingers over his ribs. “I do have a lover still. But you’re different,” he purred, closing his eyes as the fingers slowly stroked his skin. “I don’t think I could ever find another human as good as you.”

Silva grunted. “Is that what I am to you, then?” His hand slipped beneath Chrollo’s cropped shirt, a warm thumb rolling over his nipple teasingly. “Some sort of pet? A distraction? Someone to take care of you while you run from your lover?”

It was funny how Silva wanted to define their relationship with his hand already up Chrollo’s shirt, but who was Chrollo to judge? They certainly weren’t the types to do things formally, if what they shared was something that could ever be described as formal. “You’re…” he began, cutting himself off with a muted moan as Silva jerked up his shirt and took his nipple into his mouth. He was going to warm back up quickly if they kept on like this. “Ah, you’re so much fun, Silva. Why ruin it with labels?”

Chrollo couldn’t hold back his keen when Silva sank his teeth into his nipple as punishment. He fisted the sheets and arched against Silva’s body, tugging weakly at the hand still holding him to the bed. As hard as it was, it still wouldn’t mark. “Did I make you mad?” Chrollo gasped, toes curling when the teeth eased up, Silva’s tongue soothing the sting with gentle licks. “You’re never rough with me, no matter how much I beg you to hurt me.”

Silva’s cool breath chilled Chrollo’s damp skin as he sighed. His cold blue eyes met Chrollo’s, pinning him in place better than his hands alone could. “I forgot how you like that sort of treatment,” the human scoffed, glaring at Chrollo’s neck. No, not his neck, Chrollo corrected. At the marks showcased by his rumpled shirt. “You’re such a brat. How am I supposed to punish you when you like pain?”

Well, there were plenty of ways so long as Silva was willing to get creative. Chrollo’s cheeks grew hot at the thought. “Hisoka would–”

“Don’t,” Silva cut in, sealing their lips together before Chrollo could manage to finish his thought. 

The kiss was deep, probing, Silva keeping his eyes open to stare into Chrollo’s with a dominance that had him shaking. Chrollo parted his lips without needing prompted, moaning as Silva took over entirely. It was what Silva did best, wasn’t it? He never shied away from putting Chrollo in his place, from taking what he wanted when he knew Chrollo would let him. He kissed how he lived, without quarter and with great, great patience. Nothing at all like Hisoka but just as effective. 

Chrollo closed his eyes and surrendered to it all. His hands went limp beneath Silva’s hold, and after another minute of devouring, engulfing kisses, Silva pulled back, a strand of saliva connecting their lips. “I won’t have you thinking of him when you’re with me,” Silva delivered, his piercing eyes making Chrollo feel so small. How did the man not even sound winded? Chrollo felt on the verge of melting, but Silva hardly looked warm. 

“Do you understand me?” he asked when Chrollo failed to respond. Chrollo nodded, gasping for the breath he couldn’t catch. “Good,” Silva growled, letting go of his hands to begin undressing Chrollo properly. “I think I’ve found a way to punish you.”

If that was intended to make Chrollo nervous, it did the exact opposite. Excitement filled him in a warm wave, pooling in his stomach until Chrollo could barely sit still while he was undressed. Tight leather and worn cotton parted from his body reluctantly, fluttering to the floor with a whisper barely heard. Chrollo tugged on Silva’s shoulders, whining softly until Silva took the hint to remove his shirt as well. “What are you going to do to me?” he breathed, staring up at the man and all of his thick muscles, Chrollo’s hands so dark against the white of the human’s skin. He bit his lip and looked at Silva through his lashes, praying he might finally get those muscles to treat him the way he had been craving since he left the Underdark. 

Instead of answering him, Silva raised a brow and brought his hands to his belt, coaxing it through his belt loops slowly. “Put your hands above your head,” he said lowly, and Chrollo rushed to comply, grabbing onto the worn wooden headboard eagerly. Chrollo’s head was spinning already at the thought of being bound, of having the thick leather wrapped around his wrists and bruising him as he struggled beneath Silva’s bulk. It had been so long since he had last had that. Too long. 

“You really are so well-trained,” Silva remarked, coiling the belt around Chrollo’s wrists and then through the slats in the headboard. 

“Maybe I just know what I like,” Chrollo breathed, testing the tightness once Silva was done. For a man who claimed to be unused to this sort of thing, Silva certainly did know how to tie a knot. Chrollo could twist his wrists and move his fingers, the bind not so tight that it cut off his blood flow, but tight enough to keep him right where Silva wanted him. “You shouldn’t give Hisoka all the credit.”

Silva’s brow twitched. “I thought you weren’t to speak of him again,” he growled, laying himself down along the length of Chrollo’s naked body. He was so warm, so mindlessly warm, and Chrollo was struggling already to roll his hips against Silva. 

“Just… Come on, Silva,” Chrollo huffed, trying and failing to get stimulation like this. “Is this your idea of punishment?” It was bad but it wasn’t  _ bad _ . Not like how Hisoka would punish him. Those punishments made Chrollo’s eyes roll back, his toes curl. They made him scream himself voiceless until all he could do was plead to his lover in gasping, wordless cries to end the beautiful torment. “You’re going to bore me if all you do is hold me down.”

Narrowing his eyes, Silva loomed closer to his face. “You really want punished that badly?” he asked, cupping Chrollo’s cheeks in his hands. 

Chrollo struggled harder, biting his lip. “Yes,” he whined. He had been ignoring it for the most part, but now that he was like this, trussed up and pinned down, it was all he could think about. A need had been growing in him since he had left Hisoka’s bed, one that he didn’t think he could ignore any longer. 

“You’re really sure?” the human asked, leaning closer, the warmth of his breath just ghosting across Chrollo’s lips. Like this, Silva’s hair curtained around them, hiding Chrollo from the world in a waterfall of moonlit silver. “You won’t begrudge me if I...  _ indulge _ ?”

The way Silva lingered over the word, rolling it across his tongue like mead nearly did Chrollo in. He went limp against the bed and bared his throat on instinct, eyes squeezed shut as he struggled for breath. “Please,” Chrollo begged, wrapping his thighs around Silva’s waist to pull him closer. “Please, please, please.”

“So well-trained,” Silva mused, and Chrollo readied himself for the pain, for that wonderful combination of pleasure and agony that shook him to the root of his being. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep you waiting if you’re already willing to beg for it.”

He shouldn’t, Chrollo wanted to scream. He really, really shouldn’t. Where would Silva strike first? Would he rake his nails down Chrollo’s chest? Would he bruise his hips with his big, strong hands? Or would he take one look at the scars on Chrollo’s shoulders and find it in himself to add to them despite their established rule? A shiver of want curled over his skin, gooseflesh following in a wave. It would make Hisoka so mad to find someone else had been there, that someone else had dared mark what was his. Chrollo could see his face now, golden eyes narrowed as he traced the unfamiliar bitemark. He would be livid. He would add a hundred more just to erase the one that didn’t belong on his pet’s skin. 

A warm hand traced down Chrollo’s chest with unerring gentleness. “What are you thinking about?” Silva asked, his fingertips caressing Chrollo’s dripping cock. “You’re so wet already.”

“You,” Chrollo said, opening his eyes a little to implore Silva. “What you might do. Please, Silva. I want it so much.” 

“You’re such a filthy little thing, aren’t you? Getting so worked up over just the anticipation. You haven’t been denied much, have you?”

Chrollo pouted. “You’re denying me now.” He whined a little, shifting beneath Silva’s weight. 

“I wonder about that,” Silva said quietly, leaning forward to kiss Chrollo’s pouting lips. 

If Chrollo expected him to be rough, or demanding, Silva didn’t care to play along. This kiss was mindlessly gentle compared to the first, soft and searching, deep without being forceful. Chrollo whined low in his throat, wasting his breath as Silva mapped out every inch of his mouth as slowly as he wished to go. Struggling did nothing to speed up the pace. Silva merely cupped his face in his large hands, holding him still. His hips rolled against Chrollo, but even that was sedate.

Confusion set in, and the moment Silva broke the kiss to breathe, Chrollo was complaining. 

“What was that?” he demanded, breathless but working past it. “I thought you were going to hurt me.”

Silva’s eyes were half-mast, his smile hungry. “I never said that,” he chuckled, leaning down to kiss Chrollo’s neck as gently as he had just kissed his mouth. “I said I’d punish you. I can’t think of a better way to do that than to make love to a masochist.” 

Chrollo froze under the ministrations, his eyes wide, his lips parted in a gape. “Make love?” he whispered, the words nearly foreign on his tongue. His cheeks began to burn. “Do… do you love me?”

When Silva laughed, Chrollo felt it in its entirely, vibrating through his chest in a way that made him gasp. “Of course not,” Silva chided, curling his fingers lower, brushing them teasingly against Chrollo’s entrance. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t spoil you with some tenderness. Knowing you, you’ve never been held like this before.”

Chrollo wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling, but he knew it was closer to horror than excitement. 

“You can’t be serious,” he muttered, his breath hitching. Silva was reaching for the oil now, grinning like a loon as he dug through his own bag for some tiny vial Chrollo had never seen before. “Where did you get that?”  _ When _ did he get it? They had always used Chrollo’s up until now. 

“Not in a very trusting mood tonight, are you? Or well,” Silva said, pouring the scented oil over his fingers carelessly, “I suppose you were a lot more trusting when you thought I was going to hurt you. I got it in town the other week. Thought I might surprise you with a present since we’ve been working so well together.”

Chrollo flushed horribly. He looked at the wall, and then he closed his eyes when Silva took him by the chin to bring his attention back onto him. The air was fragrant with the oil, some mixture of surface plants Chrollo had never before smelled. His skin felt warm where it touched, and when Silva slipped in a finger, his eyes shot open, the warmth so much more pronounced when it was inside him. 

Silva smirked. “Guess there’s something to be said about surface Elves now, isn’t there?” he mused, crooking his finger to make Chrollo gasp. His other hand wrapped itself around Chrollo’s thigh, keeping him spread. “It cost more than I’d like to admit, but I think it was worth it. You look absolutely stricken.”

Chrollo felt filthy. His vision was hazy, his skin buzzing with whatever spellwork was used to enhance the oil’s natural properties. Silva was only two fingers in and Chrollo already wanted to beg. He tugged weakly at the belt around his wrists, hiding his face in his arm. This wasn’t so bad, though. It wasn’t what he thought it would be. Silva thought he was doing something so jarring, but Chrollo could take it. It was slow, over-gentle, but nothing so out of the ordinary. So what if Silva had bought special oil just for him? So what if he was opening him up carefully, kissing Chrollo’s knee? 

Chrollo’s cheeks burned, moaning into his arm. So what if it felt so good that he thought he might die? There was no pain to distract him, nothing to curb the edge rapidly approaching. Silva slipped in a third finger as slowly as he could, peppering Chrollo’s sweaty skin with soft, open-mouthed kisses. Everything was so tender. Silva wasn’t going to rush a thing tonight, and Chrollo was completely at his mercy for it all. 

His eyes shot open when Silva’s lips began to travel lower. “What are you doing?” Chrollo asked, voice shaking, eyes damp already. He looked between his spread thighs and watched Silva kiss down his inner thigh, lower and lower and lower until his lips just brushed Chrollo’s cock. 

Cool blue eyes met Chrollo’s, Silva quirking a smile. “What’s it look like?” he said, brow raised. He looked entirely too composed with his lips tracing the words against Chrollo’s heat. His fingers were still moving, brushing teasingly against the place inside Chrollo that made him shiver. 

“It looks like you’re trying to kill me,” Chrollo muttered, knees tightening around Silva’s head when he began to move lower, his tongue lapping at the underside of his cock, following the vein. Chrollo choked, body clenching around Silva’s fingers, arms jerking against the belt holding him still. He would have bruises on his wrists by morning, and not for the reason he wanted. 

Silva hummed, rolling his eyes as he opened up his mouth and took Chrollo to the hilt in one easy, nonchalant move. Chrollo jolted as if struck, crying out Silva’s name in a broken, needy whine. Silva pulled off him and gave him a look. “Given how much you talk about him,” he began, working his fingers in a slow, mindlessly gentle rhythm, “I would have expected your lover to have at least gone down on you before.”

How could Silva be bringing this up now? “H-he does,” he answered after a minute of trying to gather his breath. Bracing his heels on the bed, Chrollo tried in vain to ride the fingers. All he got for his efforts was a hand on his hip, holding him to the sheets easily. 

“Shocking considering how you’re reacting to me doing it,” Silva mused, his voice so level that Chrollo couldn’t think it fair at all. “Maybe I’m just special.”

Every time Silva spoke, his breath tickled the head of Chrollo’s cock. “Maybe you’re driving me insane,” Chrollo tried to say, his voice breaking somewhere towards the end. Hisoka went down on him plenty, but never like this. It was something he saved for after they had already had their fun together, or as a treat for behaving. Sometimes as a punishment, but that never felt like this. 

Silva kissed the head, and then down his shaft, removing his fingers completely. Chrollo whined but Silva just held him in place, lapping at his cock, his sharp eyes never leaving Chrollo’s face as he worked. His large hands wrapped around Chrollo’s thighs, cradling him close as he pleasured Chrollo to his heart’s content. 

“Gods, Silva,” Chrollo begged, his mind going blank from the emptiness, from the unbearable warmth surrounding him. He longed for the caress of sharp, pointed teeth, for something more. “Please, fuck me already.” 

In response, Silva grinned and moved lower, his fingers and his tongue fucking into Chrollo in a calculated effort to make him scream. Or well, try to. Chrollo didn’t scream. He absolutely did not scream. He closed his eyes and arched like a bow, his lips parted in a keen that had to be audible to the next room over. Silva laughed and it vibrated in the worst way, his tongue retracting to kiss Chrollo’s fluttering, needy hole like the teasing bastard he was. 

“This oil really is amazing,” he mused, rising up to meet Chrollo’s eye, licking his lips a little. “It makes you taste even better than you normally do.”

Chrollo’s face was going to set fire to the bedding. His eyes pricked with angry tears. “That’s so lewd,” he groaned, his head falling back into the pillows as he arched again, desperate for something more. “Gods, you’re an utter beast.”

“Not tonight, I’m not,” he corrected, moving up Chrollo’s body, sharing the heady, fragrant taste of the oil with him in a kiss. A kiss that made Chrollo’s toes curl, his body keyed up and melting. Silva cupped his cheek in a hand and stroked Chrollo’s hair from his eyes, smiling at him kindly. “So sit back and enjoy this,” he said, his thumb swiping over Chrollo’s trembling bottom lip. “You’re going to cum when I think you’ve had enough.”

“What does that mean?” Chrollo asked, eyes wide as Silva pulled himself free from his trousers, coating his long, thick cock with the oil still on his hand. A shiver of anticipation ran down Chrollo’s spine at the sight, doubling when Silva hissed in pleasure. 

Seizing a thigh in his hand, Silva spread Chrollo wider, lifting him a little as he lined himself up. “It means,” he began, slipping the head of his cock inside, punching the breath from Chrollo’s lungs, “that I’m going to take you to pieces, Chrollo.” He fed him another inch, Chrollo’s head falling back onto the pillow. “I’m going to make love to you until you understand,” another inch, another overwhelmingly slow inch, “that I’m the only human, the only  _ man  _ you need think about.”

If he expected Chrollo to respond to that, he was going to be disappointed. Chrollo could hardly breathe, let alone speak, even when every ounce of him wanted to poke fun at Silva’s obvious jealousy. Silva pressed inside him smoothly, pinning him in place with his bulk and cock, layering kisses upon kisses as he rested there, in no rush to move at all. Chrollo shook from his bound wrists down to his legs, his tongue trying to give back some of what Silva was giving him. He was coming up short, incredibly short, but he tried. He was trying so hard. 

Silva noticed, and he smiled against Chrollo’s lips. His hips began to move, pulling out a little and pushing back in, the pace so slow that Chrollo already wanted to complain. “You’re really beautiful, Chrollo,” Silva whispered, moving to his ear to kiss and lick, his teeth a teasingly cruel edge that didn’t feel sharp enough. “You’re a complete brat, but you’re probably the prettiest I’ve ever had.”

Chrollo flushed despite himself. He averted his eyes, his belly filling with warmth at the praise. His entire body felt warm, Silva’s skin keeping the cold at bay. They were pressed so closely together. It felt… intimate. “D… Don’t say stuff like that,” he mumbled, Silva rocking into him again, angling it to brush against him where it felt best. Chrollo’s eyes rolled back and he gasped, the pleasure overtaking him in rolling waves that didn’t seem to know the concept of impatience. 

Humming lowly, Silva braced himself carefully and chased Chrollo’s lips. His hands cupped Chrollo’s cheeks, their foreheads brushing as he stared deeply into Chrollo’s eyes. Their breath mingled. Silva didn’t move faster, didn’t fuck into him harder, but Chrollo swore his arousal mounted, his cock leaking pitifully against his stomach. 

“You like this,” Silva observed, grinning cockily, drawing a hand down Chrollo’s neck, down his ribs and thigh, hooking his leg around his waist to open him up even more. The change in angle devoured up any denial Chrollo might have been able to offer. “You keep complaining but your body is honest. Probably more honest than you’ve ever been in your life.”

Chrollo shook his head weakly, eyes staring but not seeing, his mind filled with nothing but the sound of Silva’s voice and the pleasure he was giving him. Silva’s movements were so slow and luxuriant, dragging against Chrollo with no sign of hurry, no fervor or overwhelming need to be sated. “I hate this,” he lied, struggling against the belt, whining when it refused to give. He wanted to touch Silva, to hold onto him as he fell to pieces. It was scary like this. It was scary feeling so much.  

“Poor thing,” the man sighed, and if Chrollo didn’t know him, he might have thought Silva sounded pitying. The smile on his face ruined it though, and Silva kissed him again, and then again, slower and deeper each time. Before long, Silva’s eyes slid shut, the kiss as purposeful and loving as the way he moved his hips. 

It all was at odds with what Chrollo knew sex to be. Silva’s kisses were so deep, flaying Chrollo bare and open until there was nothing to hide. His hands were so gentle. Why were they so gentle? Chrollo couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take any of this but Silva seemed dead set on making him do it regardless. 

Tearing his mouth away, Chrollo took in a rushed, greedy breath. “Please,” he begged, nearing the point of tears. “Please, Silva, I can’t.”

“You can,” Silva chuckled, rolling his hips in another dizzying thrust. How was he so deep? 

“I can’t, I can’t.” Tears rolled down his cheeks messily. His skin felt so hot, the pleasure debilitating. A knot of something tightened in his stomach, and Chrollo tugged pitifully at his bound arms, meeting Silva’s eye. “Please,” he pleaded, leaning into the hand that came up to wipe away his tears. “Untie me.”

“Oh, look at you,” Silva crooned, kissing his mouth chastely as his grinned. His hips kept moving, damnably slow and mindlessly deep, and he propped himself on his elbows to tug teasingly at the belt. “Will you try to run if I humor you?”

Chrollo shook his head violently, closing his eyes as Silva’s cock nudged that spot again. He forgot how to breathe, let alone speak. His lips kept moving, begging for him where his voice failed. It was laughable to think him capable of running right now. Chrollo was pretty sure he’d never be able to walk again after this.

Silva smiled against his cheek. “You’re really cute when you’re speechless,” he mused, lifting himself up to yank the knot from the belt. Chrollo bit his lip and tugged eagerly, and the moment he was free, he wrapped his arms around Silva’s neck, holding him desperately. “You’re really cute when you do that, too,” Silva laughed, kissing his hair. 

He rewarded Chrollo with a harder thrust, and then another. Chrollo huffed and moaned, digging his nails into Silva’s back. Every nerve seemed to sing along to the heat between them, Silva’s every move winding him tighter and tighter like a spring ready to break. 

It was all so gradual, so smooth, that Chrollo was a little shocked when he finally came. In most cases, his orgasm was coaxed from him with targeted bites or rough, insistent stimulation. It would come violently and powerfully, wiping out his vision and deadening his body for minutes at a time. But now, with Silva, with this horrible, maddening,  _ awful  _ love-making, Chrollo found himself cumming between the space of a breath and a moan, in a wash of white that blanketed him as gently as a silk sheet fluttering over his sore, singing body. 

“S-Silva…” Chrollo gasped, his hands scrambling at Silva’s back only to lose the strength to stay up. They slipped from Silva’s body and rested on the pillow beside his head, his eyes closed, his breathing wrecked. His release covered both of their stomachs, but Silva kept moving, the pace finally picking up into something measured but firm. Chrollo bit his lip and hissed as his overstimulated nerves began to protest it, but Silva didn’t take long to finish. 

“Gods above,” Silva grunted, coming to a stop still buried deeply inside Chrollo. He rocked gently, fucking himself through his afterglow, his jaw clenched and his muscles glistening as he hovered over Chrollo’s shaking, boneless body. “You’ve no idea what you look like right now, do you?”

He didn’t, but he had a feeling he looked like a complete mess. Chrollo closed his eyes and hid his face in the nearest pillow. He’d be lucky if he ever caught his breath after that. “You’re awful and I hate you,” he said, his voice muffled but his tone carrying through. Embarrassment burned in his cheeks, his ears, even down his shoulders. It felt so good but so awful. He had never enjoyed a punishment less, never came so easily in his life. Exhaustion swelled in his aching body, and he fidgeted and whined as Silva pulled out. They made such a mess of this bed. What a lovely surprise for the barkeep when he came calling to reclaim his key. 

But Silva was laughing, proving that he didn’t think or care about any of that. He lowered himself along Chrollo’s body, snatching the pillow away easily as he kissed Chrollo’s trembling shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” he asked, smiling as if he had done something clever. 

“It was horrible,” Chrollo pouted, trying and failing to snatch back his pillow. He gave up when Silva dropped it on the floor, and instead settled on looking at the wall. 

“Well, it was meant to be punishment.” Silva kept up his mindless fondling, kissing Chrollo’s cheek and his downturned lips, his forehead, his chin. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel good at all.” 

It was childish of him, but Chrollo nodded his head. “Awful, completely awful,” he said, pushing at Silva’s strong chest. “It’s no wonder you humans live such short lives, fucking like that. You’re dooming yourselves with that awful tenderness.”

Silva stared at him for a beat and then laughed loudly, unabashedly. “Sure, sure,” he said, rolling them over, taking Chrollo with him to lay the Drow out along his chest. “And your violent bloodletting you call sex is what makes you so long-lived.”

“Well, it’s certainly not hurting the chances.” Chrollo frowned and hid his face in Silva’s neck, ignoring how he arched into Silva’s gentle touches. The human’s hands stroked down his back in soothing passes, his cheek nuzzling Chrollo’s hair. It was all so warm. Chrollo closed his eyes, remembering how exhausting this day had been. 

The silence was comfortable, but Chrollo still broke it. 

“We’ll be leaving the town tomorrow, won’t we?”

Silva sighed, his hand stalling for a moment before resuming its motions. “Yeah. There’s no way we can stay here another night. After the commotion we caused in the bar, there’s pretty much no possibility of us being able to do much in this town. You’re too nefarious and I’m going to be labeled as trouble.”

Chrollo let out a little laugh. “You are trouble,” he mumbled, kissing Silva’s cheek sweetly. 

“I wasn’t before you came into my life,” he grunted, his hand traveling lower, cupping Chrollo’s ass like a warning. “You’re a terrible influence. Just look at how far I’ve fallen from the grace of respected society.”

“You call this respected society?” Chrollo snorted, stroking his fingers through Silva’s long, blond hair. It was such a pale blond, the strands so brilliant that they glistened in the wane candlelight. “Bumpkins, more like.”

Silva’s hands traveled higher, leaving his ass alone to pet along his lower spine with his knuckles. He raised a brow and quirked a smile. “Bumpkins? Really. And you’re so familiar with high society, are you? A brat like you?”

Chrollo rolled his eyes, leaning up a bit to look at Silva pointedly. “I’m very important where I come from,” he said, trying and failing to hide his smile. 

“You?” Silva scoffed, unimpressed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Oh, but Silva, it’s true,” Chrollo swore, swooping down for a kiss. “I’m very important. Or well, my lover is. He’s quite infamous in the Underdark. Known far and wide for his work and wealth. And for me too, I suppose, since I’m rather sought after.” He smiled with glee, sensing Silva’s annoyance growing. It was fun, though, so he kept going, ignoring it. “I’ve seen decadence you can scarcely imagine, Silva. Hisoka spoils me rotten. With gems and fancy food and expensive gifts. I never want for anything when I’m with him.”

“Sounds like you should go back down there then,” Silva said stiffly, batting away Chrollo’s hand when he moved to cup the human’s cheek. 

Chrollo smiled warmly. “I’ve thought about it. Hisoka never makes me sleep out in the rain. That probably makes him a better lover than you,” he teased, leaning in for another kiss. 

The kiss never landed. Before he could so much as laugh, Silva shoved him off his chest and back onto the bed. Chrollo bounced slightly, stunned, and watched as Silva got up and went across the room, blowing out the candles that kept the room lit. “Bedtime already?” he asked, pouting a bit. “That was rather sudden. I’m not tired yet.”

“I don’t care,” Silva bit, his voice unexpectedly cold. 

Frowning, Chrollo sat up. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden? I thought we were having fun.”

The glare Silva shot at him made Chrollo feel an inch tall. “If you don’t like it, then maybe you should go back to your rich lover,” he bit, putting out another candle with a harsh puff of air. 

What? He didn’t think… He couldn’t think Chrollo was serious, could he? Chrollo held the blankets tightly in his hands, his throat tight. “Silva?” he tried, covering his legs with the sheets, the room growing darker and colder by the second. A draft prickled at his still damp hair, chilling him without Silva’s warmth to chase it away. “You know I’m just kidding, right?”

Silva didn’t deign to look up from the task at hand. He backed the next candle with his hand, leaning down to blow it out. “Are you, though?” he asked, his tone a forced calm. “You don’t waste any opportunity to talk about him, Chrollo. What am I supposed to think when you say you ran from your lover but you never stop talking about him? In fond tones, even.”

Chrollo felt the tightness in his throat recede, anger winning out. “That it’s complicated, Silva,” he snapped, staring down at his fists tearing at the sheets. “That it’s frankly none of your business what my standing is with my lover. You aren’t a replacement for him.” For the life of him, Chrollo couldn’t tell if Silva wished he were. “There’s no reason for you to be so jealous.”

The last candle went out before the last syllable passed Chrollo’s lips. He curled into himself, his eyes adjusting quickly, but not as quickly as he wanted them to. Silva hovered at the end of the bed, and Chrollo could tell he was debating whether or not to lay down there or on the floor. Scrubbing at his eyes, Chrollo let out a silent breath, wondering where the mood from before had gone. 

“I don’t want you to be a replacement,” Chrollo said, his face in his hand, hiding his eyes as he drew back the covers in a silent but sincere offer. “There’s nothing to replace. You’re you, Silva, and I like you because of that. I like him, too, but don’t think for a minute that I conflate the two of you. I’m not that shallow.”

Silva stood still, a statue at the foot of the bed. Chrollo didn’t try to look at his expression through the dim. He would be able to see it, but he feared what he might see if he tried. So he held the sheets up and waited, laying back down, his breath held. 

Slowly, so slowly that Chrollo nearly gave up, Silva began to move towards the bed. He took the proffered sheet in hand and settled himself in the bed beside Chrollo, keeping a healthy distance between them. A distance that had never existed before. Silva said nothing, and Chrollo didn’t try to prod him. 

It was dark with the candles out. With the mood tense, it felt all the darker. Chrollo wrapped his arms around his pillow and tried not to think about the line of Silva’s spine against his own. It had just been a little fight. They had them all the time, didn’t they? About Chrollo being bratty or Silva being overbearing. He rubbed his eyes against the coarse fabric of the pillow, trying and failing to make those arguments feel like this. 

“I love being with you, Silva,” Chrollo whispered, deafening in the darkness. “Don’t forget that, okay?”

The warmth of Silva’s back shifted, and before Chrollo could so much as stiffen, he felt strong arms wrap around him from behind. Silva tucked Chrollo’s head beneath his chin, cradling him close, closer than they had ever slept together before. 

“Go to sleep, brat,” Silva grunted, his voice warning Chrollo to say nothing. To take it with grace, and accept the gesture for what it was. Chrollo smiled and closed his eyes. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was exactly what he needed it to be.


	6. Chapter Five

Silva woke up to a numb arm and Chrollo sleeping so close to him that he couldn’t tell where one body left off and the other began. He blinked blearily at the Drow curled into his chest, at the way Chrollo’s silky hair flowed over his tingling arm in a river of darkest night. Chrollo was still fast asleep, his lovely face relaxed and open as he dreamed. Silva stroked his hand down Chrollo’s soft, naked skin, wondering in that half-wakeful way how anyone could be so beautiful. 

Soft skin, soft hair, soft lips. Silva leaned forward, brushing his against Chrollo’s for just a moment. Chrollo wrinkled his nose and mumbled, but didn’t wake. If Silva could wake up to this every morning, he might have a better temperament. The weight of the night before still sat heavily on his limbs, but it was too early to be angry. Silva could pretend that Chrollo was all his for a bit. No one else was awake to dispute it. 

“Mmm,” Chrollo mumbled, leaning closer to his chest, his soft lips brushing Silva’s cheek as he slept on. “Mmm?”

“What is it?” Silva whispered, wondering if he might talk in his sleep. What sort of things did he have to say? Chrollo was so chatty while awake, so he probably wanted to talk Silva’s ear off now too. “Chrollo?”

His violet lips parted, his teeth a teasing band of white behind them. “Silva,” he murmured, slow and elongated, savoring the sound of his name on his tongue. “‘s time to go, Silva.”

Smiling, Silva stroked through Chrollo’s hair. “Where are we going?” he prompted, glancing out towards the window across the room. He had covered it during the storm to block out the lightning, but it was still open enough to show that it was early morning. Still plenty of time before they needed to get moving. “It’s your turn to pick, isn’t it?”

Chrollo wrinkled his nose cutely. “‘s time to go,” he insisted, his hand curling into a loose fist against Silva’s chest. “‘soka’s waiting.”

Silva’s smile tightened. “Who?” he asked, his voice low, his joviality evaporating just like that. 

But Chrollo just smiled sweetly, nuzzling his face against Silva’s skin. “‘soka,” he repeated, his brow relaxing in a way that told Silva he had fallen back to sleep. His breath was gentle against Silva’s chest, almost tickling him. 

Just like that, reality came crashing back in. The fight, the sickening jealousy– it all hit him somewhere below the gut, winding him in a way he didn’t think he could recover from. Chrollo slept on, completely unaware of it, but what was new there? The Drow didn’t see anything wrong with how he was going about things, and if Silva were a less possessive man, perhaps there would be no problem. Unfortunately for them both, Silva wasn’t. 

Extracting himself without waking Chrollo took more skill than he thought he possessed, but somehow he managed it. Silva snatched up his shirt from the floor and shrugged it on along with the rest of his clothes. Chrollo’s were strewn all over the floor, but he tried not to look at those too closely. Instead, he glanced at the looking glass on the mantle, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the wild mane his hair had made during the night. Sighing, he combed through it with his fingers as best he could, glancing back at Chrollo for just a moment more. It was stupid of him to do, but there really was no helping it. 

The Drow hadn’t stirred much with his absence, but he had rolled into Silva’s spot, arms wrapping around his pillow en lieu of the body that was now gone. The sheets were pooled around his waist, his dark skin contrasting beautifully against the off-white cotton. Somehow Chrollo made a cheap, used tavern bed look inviting. Silva had to hold himself back from doing something stupid. It wouldn’t help things, him acting out of a pique of jealousy. It’d just make him weaker to Chrollo, and he had had his fill of weakness long before now. 

There was no way he could stay in the room. Not with Chrollo looking like that. Silva leaned over the only table in the room and scrubbed at his face with water from the washbasin, trying and failing to calm his fevered thoughts. His life used to be simple before this. Work, eat, sleep. He fucked if the occasion presented itself, but never with the frequency of this… whatever it was. Chrollo rolled over and Silva was drawn to the sight like a man possessed, his eyes raking along the naked expanse of the Drow’s petite figure. 

Light from the half-covered window panned across his body, and just as Silva was about to give in, he saw it. The unmistakable silver of the scars collaring Chrollo’s neck and shoulders. Something hot and acrid pooled into his stomach, his resolve strengthened just like that. 

He held back on the urge to slam the door behind him, instead shutting it softly, hating himself for caring. The hallway was bright enough to sting his eyes, the sunlight streaming in through the uncurtained windows. The day looked bright despite his mood. Silva hated it a little bit too for that. 

Instead of glaring at the sun for doing what it did best, he instead turned away and made off down the hall, taking the same stairs he had climbed the night before. A drink was what he needed. His stomach roiled at the thought of booze so early in the morning, but it was that sort of day and who was he to argue with his mood? He had earned it, he figured, for putting up with Chrollo’s fanciful ditherings for so long. He shoved open the wooden door separating the stairs from the bar, making a beeline for the counter. Thankfully there was a different person behind the bar today. Silva would’ve hated to argue for his booze while in a mood like this.  

“Give me an ale, boy,” he grunted, sitting himself down in the chair nearest the door. There weren’t many around, the crowd from the night before long since gone. A few stragglers lingered in the corners, sipping away at potions and booze to cure their probable hangovers, a few others picking at greasy breakfasts with appetites that didn’t seem to match the portion sizes on their plates. The boy, probably the barkeep’s son, darted off to fill up a tankard for Silva. He was back within a minute or so, and for that Silva was grateful. 

Staring down into the murky, amber liquid, Silva frowned. How long would Chrollo sleep? Would he wait patiently for Silva to come back upstairs, or would he cause more problems by coming downstairs to look for him? Silva took a sip of the hoppy ale, letting the taste roll over his tongue. He didn’t want to think of the look he’d get from the Drow if he caught him drinking this early in the day. 

But then again, why did Silva care? Chrollo wasn’t his. He was Silva’s client, and when Chrollo was asleep, safe and sound and with all aspects of their contract fulfilled, Silva was free to do as he pleased. He took another sip, kneading a bit at his eyes. He could still smell Chrollo on his clothes. It filled his head, adding to the annoyance growing somewhere along his temple. 

It was just a fight. He needed to stop thinking about it. Nothing had changed. Nothing that mattered. Chrollo was just a client, and Silva was just some easy dick for him while he ran wild away from his lover. Just because Silva had grown accustomed to the company didn’t mean Chrollo needed him anymore than what he’d already paid him to provide. 

“A bit early for drinking, isn’t it?” a stranger at his elbow remarked. Silva tried not to jump. He hadn’t heard her sit down. “Rough night, then?”

Silva barely glanced at the woman, already annoyed by the cheerful smile on her face. He didn’t recognize her. Was she just that friendly, then? Silva grunted, turning back to the ale being placed in front of him. He didn’t need concerned strangers offering up their opinions on his breakfast of choice. 

“Can’t say I blame you for imbibing,” she carried on, tossing her long, white-blond hair over her shoulder with the air of someone who knew full well they were tromping over the boundaries of social convention and loving every minute of it. “After a storm like that, I don’t think I’d be in any mood but a maudlin one. We don’t get them like that where I’m from.”

Grunting, Silva drained half his tankard in one swallow. The ale was as bad as it had been the night before, but he wasn’t drinking for the taste or his health. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Chrollo was infuriating, and he never seemed to understand just how bad it was that he kept defending his lover so passionately. He had run from the man, hadn’t he? How could he still be so fond of him? Silva wasn’t desperate for a relationship. He wasn’t even sure he liked Chrollo in that way to begin with, but there was something so grating about being constantly compared to an invisible ideal he could never quite seem to live up to. 

“Are you here for business?” the woman chimed in his ear, going so far as to lean into his personal space to make sure he heard her. Silva jumped back, glaring hotly at her until she moved away. “You don’t look like the type to take a vacation.”

“And how do you know I’m not a local?” Silva asked, wondering if she were the outlet he needed to get rid of this frustration. She looked strong, her arms well muscled where they were uncovered by her tunic. If they got into a fight, he was pretty sure she would make him work for his victory. 

The woman tapped the side of her nose sagely, but there was something unsettling about the way her smile sat on her face. “No local dresses like that,” she said, gesturing to his fur mantle and the thick armor fastened to his shins and forearms. 

“How astute of you,” he grunted, going back to his drink. She didn’t seem like the type to fight in bars. Definitely not so early in the morning, at any rate. 

“Not quite as astute as you, Hunter Zoldyck,” she laughed, moving her seat to angle towards him, her elbow resting on the counter, propping up her head. “Your reputation precedes you, I’m afraid.”

Silva stiffened. He wasn’t the type to be recognized by many. He wasn’t in the line of work that was aided by notoriety. If this woman knew him, she was someone either in the trade or well-versed enough with it to know who to avoid, or, at worse, who to target. Silva wasn’t blind to the bounties piled upon his own head, or the long list of enemies he had made earning his coin. He knew this couldn’t bode well.

“And who might you be?” Silva asked, eyes narrowing. He tightened his hand on his empty tankard, readying himself to bash the woman’s brains out if she made any move for a weapon. 

He nearly did it on principle when a moment later the woman’s eyes flashed a brilliant, piercing pink, something like a heat wave shimmering over her features for a split second. Her dark skin deepened to midnight black, her eyes glittering like gems. It was gone in an instant though, but an instant was all Silva needed to know she was Drow. 

“I’m an agent of someone who is very interested in your particular skillset,” she said cheerfully, her false face returned as if nothing at all had changed to begin with. “My name is Alacrita. It’s a pleasure, I’m sure.”

“I don’t work with agents,” Silva said automatically, mind racing. Who was this woman? What sort of person did she represent? Silva didn’t make it a habit to work with or for the Drow. He hadn’t thought his name extended that far from his usual circles. 

The woman laughed a small, chilling laugh. If she hadn’t revealed herself before, her laugh might have done just as well. It was cold in a way that humans’ never were. “Oh, I’m certain you’ll want to hear of this job,” she entreated, waving down the bartender for another round for the both of them. “Very competitive. Very challenging. The pay reflects both, and if you succeed, you’d never need work another day of your life.”

If Silva were involved with any other client, he might have said yes. He might have been eager about it too. But, as it was, Silva waved off the drink the bartender sat down, moving to stand up. “I’m not interested in taking on any more clients,” he said gruffly.

He barely made it to his feet before her hand grabbed his arm, her grip so tight that it took his knees out from under him, forcing him back into his chair. Alacrita’s smile was tight but still pleasant to anyone looking in. “I’m afraid I was told to insist,” she said, only letting him go when the pain began to show on Silva’s face. “You’ll listen to the offer first.”

Silva bared his teeth, rapidly losing sensation in his arm. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll rip this arm from your body and move on to the next hunter on my list,” she said pleasantly, her smile betraying nothing. For a moment, her teeth turned sharp, fangs hanging from her gums in a monstrous grin. The differences now between full and half Drow were obvious. Chrollo didn’t look half as monstrous as she.

“And then I’m permitted to leave?” Silva cursed the idiotic thought that made him leave his weapon in the room upstairs. Just because they were in a slow, sleepy town didn’t mean they weren’t at risk. “Or will you force me to take the job regardless?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of forcing you to work when you hold no desire to,” Alacrita murmured, holding her hand to her heart as if she felt some dismay at the thought alone. “His lordship simply wishes to employ the best of the best, and he simply won’t stand to let any of them go without hearing his most generous offer.”

Silva’s anger faltered for a moment. “His lordship?” he repeated, furrowing his brow. How had he attracted the attention of a Drow noble?

Alacrita nodded. “I’m sure you’ve heard tell in your circles of a Drow bounty in these parts. For the capture of a marauding Drow running loose and wild amongst the surface-dwellers?” She waited for Silva to nod before continuing. “His lordship is the one who placed the bounty. He’s lost someone quite dear to him. He simply wishes for the return of his lover by any means possible.” 

A block of ice began to form in the pit of Silva’s stomach. It couldn’t be…

“Then why bother with the bounty?” he asked, keeping his face carefully blank. She couldn’t know of last night, could she? Of the Drow he had walked in with. If she did, then why was she playing coy? “That bounty labeled that Drow as a menace. A killer. If he wanted his lover back, then why bother blacklisting them?”

Alacrita tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking at him with eyes that seemed to pity him. “So naive, you humans,” she sighed, a small smile forming on her full lips. “To chase him back down to the Underdark, of course. If he found himself unwelcome above, he would have to go back below, wouldn’t he? His lordship is rather desperate, you see. He fears his lover may never return on his own. It would be rather… unpleasant for those of us in his employ should his lover turn up dead.”

She paused for a moment to shudder. Lifting her mug of ale, she drained it in a few large swallows, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “So that is where you come in, Hunter Zoldyck. His lordship wishes to hire you to bring back his wayward lover. Upon delivery of him, you will be awarded your weight in gold. And, might I be so bold to say,” she led, looking him up and down with a look that held no small amount of heat. “You would make off rather handsomely should you be successful.” 

Silva swallowed. Her interest aside, she was right. That would be a considerable amount of gold. A ludicrous amount were it coming from anyone but a lord. Silva sat back in his seat, his head abuzz with her words. It had to be Chrollo. It couldn’t be anyone else. 

“And how would I find his lordship’s lover, should I be willing to accept this,” he forced himself to ask. “You’ve how many others on this bounty? How come no one else has stumbled upon him yet?”

Sighing, Alacrita leaned against the bar. “Though I’ve never met him myself, his lordship’s lover is rather notorious,” she began, blinking slowly like a cat. “Before he became the lord’s pet, he was known to be a rather cutthroat thief amongst the Underdark’s more unsavory streets. A dark beauty with hair as black as night and a smile sweet enough to pacify you as he slits your throat. The lord anticipated he would be hard to find and even harder to apprehend. No hunter has come close to him yet, but that doesn’t mean we are completely blind and deaf to his whereabouts.” 

Leaning down, she grabbed the strap of a bag and pulled it into her lap. Digging through it, she pulled out a few rolled slips of parchment, and then a quill. Unrolling one, Alacrita set the rest aside, pointing to a spot on an intricately drawn map with the tip of her sharp-nailed finger. “We’ve heard tell of a Drow passing through here,” she began, tracing a winding path along the very same trail Silva and Chrollo had traveled on their way here. “Remains of a camp were found here.” It was the spot where they had stopped to fuck, the sketched shape of the cave rendered in poor detail. “And here.” Where they had rested a week ago after Silva’s jaunt into town. 

“That doesn’t mean much now,” Silva heard himself say, his voice sounding a little tight. “He could have run miles from here during the rainstorm last night. If he’s as good as you say he is, the chances of finding prints after the storm are next to nothing.”

“Ah,” she smiled, waving her finger like a schoolmarm. “But you forget; the lord’s pet is rather fond of luxuries. It’s impossible not to be, given how the lord spoiled him. He is no doubt holed up somewhere in this vicinity, waiting out the storm and his pursuers.”

She knew everything, didn’t she? Everything except the fact that Chrollo wasn’t traveling alone. Silva swallowed a mouthful of alcohol, wishing he had said no to Chrollo when he begged to stay in town. Things were falling apart because of that damn brat, and now Silva had to figure out a way to gracefully turn down the offer without arousing more suspicion. He kneaded at his eyes, trying to forget the reward. He had never heard tell of so much gold before, let alone seen it with his own eyes. Hisoka was richer than he first thought, and that just soured his mood even more. 

“Why… why did the lover run?” Silva lowered his hand, staring at the woman levelly. “Was there something going on? Was he being mistreated?”  _ It’s complicated _ , Chrollo had said. How complicated could it be if Hisoka longed for him to come back? “If he were spoiled as much as you say, then why bother running from the lap of luxury?”

It was clear that she hadn’t expected him to ask anything like that. Alacrita’s eyes narrowed and she drummed her sharp nails against the bar’s scarred surface. “I wasn’t aware you had moral compunctions in regards to your jobs,” she sniffed, rolling the map back up carefully. “I am not a resident in the lord’s manor. I don’t know the details, and we aren’t in the habit of making a fuss over issues like that. One does as one’s position allows where I come from. That gives a person a lot of freedom to be cruel if they so choose.”

“But you know the rumors,” he pressed, his concern mounting with her words. Chrollo had been so insistent that the scars were consensual, that he enjoyed the pain. On some level, he did, but it didn’t sit well with Silva. Drow couldn’t be that different than humans. 

She smiled a little. “We all do. The lord’s affair with the street thief was the topic of much gossip. Countless nobles of the highest breeding strove to be lovers with the lord, and yet he chose gutter trash.” Alacrita paused for a moment, shuddering at the thought. Silva had to hold back the instinctual urge to defend Chrollo.

Thankfully, Alacrita continued on, waving her hand dismissively. “A beauty by any means, but still, when one has no standing, one is nothing.” She shoved the map back into her bag, meeting Silva’s eyes. “The lover ran for his own reasons. Any of us would be lucky to have what he had with the lord, and from what I know, they were close. Fifty years is a long time to be committed to another, even to us. His lordship is bereft, and that alone is enough to tell me that he wishes for his lover’s return out of a place of sincerity.” 

Silva’s throat was tight. His temple pounded. Every instance of Chrollo gushing over Hisoka replayed in his mind like the most incessant of memories, growing louder with every second that transpired. 

Chrollo missed Hisoka. Hisoka missed Chrollo. There was no room for Silva, and if there was, it wasn’t in any capacity he wished to occupy. He stared down at his mug, at the glamored Drow and her remaining parchment scroll. Something told him it was a contract. 

Something told him that he would sign. 

Alacrita grinned, seeing it in his eyes before he could come to terms with it himself. She unrolled the contract and slid it over to him, quill slipping into his hand in the blink of an eye. “Sign here, and here, and then again on the other copy,” she whispered, leaning closer to breathe the words against his ear. “You’ve a deadline of two weeks to bring Chrollo Lucilfer to the lordship’s manor, lest you forfeit your claim to the reward.”

“And… and how does his lordship expect me to deliver his lover to him?” Silva asked slowly, signing his name even slower, every letter an act of struggle. The  _ scritch scritch _ of the quill against the parchment seemed to scream at him to stop, but Silva couldn’t. The deed was done, and Alacrita swiped the top contract from under his hand, rolling it up with a bright grin. Her glamor faded for a moment in her glee, her bright pink eyes dancing like fox fire. 

“In one piece, preferably,” she said, gathering her things to stand. She tossed down a few coins for the drink, staring down at Silva with a look that said she wished their business didn’t need to conclude so quickly. She pulled a brimmed hat from her bag, casting it atop her head. “But be warned, I hear the pet has an affinity for poisons. Something he learned in the dredges of our fair city, no doubt. Others have tried drugging him to no avail, so I’d avoid that if I were you.”

They didn’t try sedatives, Silva thought woodenly, watching the Drow saunter through the crowd, casting the brim of her hat over her eyes as she ducked out the tavern door. They didn’t know to try. But Silva did. He knew every way to incapacitate Chrollo, and he had every ounce of trust necessary to do it, so long as he were willing to break it entirely.  

The walk back up to the room went by in a blur, his copy of the contract folded up tightly and hidden in the palm of his sweating hand. 

He opened the door to the sight of Chrollo awake, something he was a bit sickened to see. The Drow perked up and smiled at him, the sheets still draped over his hips and not much besides. At some point he had gotten up and stolen one of Silva’s shirts. It hung off his narrow frame like the worst sort of tease, somehow compounded by the wicked little daggers in his hands, a whetstone balanced on his knee. 

“Oh, you’re back,” he greeted, blowing some of his fringe from his eyes. “Where did you go? If you were getting breakfast, you could have told me. I would’ve had you smuggle me some, too.”

“Get up,” Silva grunted, not bothering to answer his question. He went for his pack and gathered up what he still had scattered on the floor. He made sure to bury the contract deep, tucking it in a pocket that couldn’t be reached easily. “We’re leaving.”

Chrollo’s smile fell. “Silva, is something wrong?” He sat up slowly, losing his carefree tone. “Did someone find out I was up here?”

He turned and met the Drow’s eyes. Chrollo was wrapped in the sheet, his eyes glossy and wide and his lips like the petals of a violet. He looked like temptation, but Silva refused to let himself yield to it. Turning back to his pack, he knelt down and tightened the straps decisively. “Everything’s fine, brat,” he said. “Now get dressed, pack your things, and sneak down to the tree line while I settle up with the barkeep. And give me back my shirt. If I can’t look in your bag, you can’t look in mine.” 

If he expected an argument, he didn’t get it. What came was the soft shuffling of cotton against skin, Chrollo standing and pulling on his clothing without another word. He tossed Silva’s shirt in his direction, leaving Silva to bend down and pick it up. Curiosity thrummed off his every move, his graceful body slipping into his tight clothes until they garbed him like a second skin. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Silva staring, but instead of saying something, he just offered up a small, worried smile. 

“We’re okay, right?” he asked, hefting his damp bag onto his shoulder, his cloak looped over his arm. “You know, after last night...”

“We’re fine, Chrollo.” If he said it with a smile, maybe the Drow would believe him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Chrollo swallowed, looking uncharacteristically small as he held his things close to his chest. “I’ll see you soon, then,” he sighed, turning towards the window. He waited for a reply that didn’t come, and after a moment, sighed, wedging open the window and slipping out as sinuously as a practiced thief. If Alacrita were to be believed, that was exactly what he was, too. 

He made quick work of his own things and lifted the bag onto his shoulder, snatching up his axe too. Chrollo’s hurt expression seemed to be stamped on the back of his eyelids, gnawing at him like the guilt he refused to feel. Silva was a professional, after all. He’d do this job and he’d do it well. 

A job was just a job, and far be it from him to let a bratty little Drow get between him and his weight in gold. 


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really excited so you get this one now

Something was off, but for the life of him, Chrollo couldn’t figure out what it was. 

For the third time since that morning, Silva pulled out the map and held it close to his chest, reading it as he walked. Every so often he would glance up at the sun and reorient them, taking them due south and deeper into the humid, arid forest. Chrollo fanned himself with his hand, recalling all too well how disgusting it had felt traveling through a similar heat when he first had left the Underdark. What he wouldn’t give to go back to the town from before. A cold mug of mead sounded like a dream right now, one he would pay any sum to enjoy. 

“As much as I adore putting my faith in your navigation skills,” Chrollo said, breaking the silence that had been following them doggedly for the past ten miles, “I think that avoiding weather like this would probably be better than diving head first into it.”

Silva peered over the top of the map, glaring at him without much heat. When surrounded by the wet, sticky air, there was no heat left to sting as much as the weather already did. “I know what I’m doing,” he grunted, going back to whatever it was he thought he was accomplishing behind there. 

“Sure, if you say so,” Chrollo grumbled, shifting his folded cloak to the other arm, a thin layer of sweat sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I know what you’re doing. Why don’t you let me lead for a bit? Let’s go back north. This heat is awful.” If the humidity got any thicker, it would be like drowning with every breath he took. 

“Suck it up and deal with it,” Silva grunted, in no mood to play it seemed. “I know where we’re going.”

“And where is that?” Chrollo snapped a little, his own patience evaporating like the sweat on his dark skin. Gods, but it was hot. Did he feel it worse than Silva, or did Silva just handle it better? There wasn’t an ounce of shade along the path they traveled, the only spot of cover in sight some far off forest that looked just as stifling with the thick heat mirage rippling along the stretch of space between them. Could there really be a town out here? How did they survive with it so oppressively hot?

“Where we need to be, brat, so stop harping on it.” Silva folded up the map with an annoyed air, shoving it deep into his pack without another word. He held a hand over his eyes and looked off towards the forest, orienting them towards it silently. Chrollo sighed and glared at him, but if he felt it, he didn’t make it known. 

“You’re being such an ass today,” he mumbled, shifting his cloak again into the other arm, regretting not keeping enough space open in his pack to let him shove it in there so he wouldn’t have to carry it. “You’ve been an ass since we left that other village. Did you forget your manners back there? Maybe we should double back to get them.” Before he got fed up enough with Silva to stab him, he added silently with a glare hot enough to make Silva turn. 

For a moment, it looked like Silva might snap back at him. Instead, he took in a deep breath and looked back ahead, letting it out with a low sigh. “Just keep moving,” he muttered, shifting his back higher, his own fur-lined mantle tucked under his strap to hang from the bag. The glint of his axe in the sunlight was nearly blinding. “It’s too hot to argue and we need to get into the forest before we run out of water.”

Chrollo groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow. He wasn’t used to this sort of heat at all. The Underdark was nearly frigid, any light that shined down there created through artificial means. The sun baked him from above, his dark hair holding the heat like a stone. How surface-dwellers put up with it, he would never know. 

But, in the end, Silva was right. Once Chrollo stopped complaining, he found that the walk did go faster. The sun rose and then began to list to the west, its overbearing heat easing slightly as it lost its apex. Chrollo was completely soaked in sweat when they finally ducked into the trees, the shade granting some relief, but not much. The humidity was even more thick here, sticky and heavy and just barely preferable to what it had been before. 

“Great Gods far below,” Chrollo swore, leaning heavily against a tree. “I fucking hate this. I hate this place so much.”

“Whining won’t make it better,” Silva said, his own breathing labored, his long hair bundled up in a messy bun on the top of his head. His pale skin was flushed red, his simple shirt soaked through with sweat. He pulled the axe off his shoulder and carried it in his hands as he pressed on, forcing Chrollo to keep moving. 

“It’ll make me feel better,” Chrollo gasped, stumbling behind him weakly. “Can we please, for the love of all that resides beneath our feet, make camp soon?”

“There’s still daylight to burn,” Silva tried to say, but Chrollo just shoved forward and blocked the man’s path, chest heaving as he tried to breath in the air that stuck in his throat. 

“If we don’t stop soon, I am going to pass out,” he said, stumbling a little in his search for another tree to lean against. “Seriously, Silva. I don’t think I can keep up this pace with it so hot.”

Silva let out an annoyed growl, but it seemed he was too worn out himself to bother arguing. He let out a breath and nodded, looking around at the wilderness surrounding them. “Let’s at least get deeper in,” he sighed, taking Chrollo by the arm to get him moving. “We need to find a clearing so we can make a fire.”

Chrollo pulled a face, his vision swimming a bit. “A fire? In this heat?” He was cringing at the thought alone. 

“You want to eat tonight? It’ll help keep animals away, too. Always make a fire, brat. Even in heat like this,” Silva lectured, dragging Chrollo through a thick bunch of vines to deposit them into the first clearish space they had seen yet. Chrollo didn’t bother to yank himself free of Silva’s hand. He just shucked off his pack and crumpled to his knees, letting Silva hold onto his arm as he finally rested. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he groaned, his hand falling down beside him on the ground when Silva dropped it. “You go do that. I’m gonna. Breathe. For a bit.” Try to, at least. Gods, it was so hard to breathe here. He heard more than saw Silva walk off to gather wood. There was plenty around them so he wouldn’t have to go far, luckily. The clearing was strewn with all sorts of loose branches and the like, some dried while others looked soaked through with the moisture afflicting everything in the forest’s embrace. Chrollo closed his eyes and caught his breath. With the sun off him and the hike over, he could begin to cool down a little. 

He opened them back up when he heard a soft sort of clatter, turning a bit to watch Silva deposit an armful of small branches into a pile. He knelt down with a handful of moss and set himself to stacking it all together, building up the fire the way he always did when they made camp. A lot of skill went into the movements. Silva had been doing this for decades. It showed. 

Silva edged away from him the moment Chrollo tried to sit beside him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, scooting closer to spite Silva. “Not feeling like talking to me now? I just wanted to watch you work.”

“It’s too hot to have you clinging to me, brat. Go drink some water and leave me be,” Silva said a little harshly, a flood of sparks rising off the flint and steel to fall on the tinder bundle tucked inside the dried sticks. A few caught and Silva leaned down to blow gently on it, coaxing it into a small fire within a minute or two. There was a lot more smoke than there usually was, probably from all the moisture in the wood. 

As weary as he was from the day’s travel, Chrollo figured he knew the way to alleviate whatever it was bothering Silva. He moved closer to Silva despite his admonishments, draping himself against the man’s solid, muscled shoulder. “I know a better way to deal with the heat,” he whispered, kissing Silva’s cheek, running his hand down Silva’s arm to rest over his hand. “Why don’t we sweat it out together?”

Silva stilled, his breath catching in his throat. Chrollo smiled and moved his lips to Silva’s ear, teasing him with a soft gasp. “You’ve been so tense today,” he breathed, lacing their fingers together, bringing Silva’s hand to settle on his thigh. “So on edge. Do you want me to help? Let me make you feel better.”

Cool blue eyes took him in, a shiver running down Chrollo’s spine. Silva stared at his lips, and then lower, following the line of Chrollo’s neck down to his clavicles. “It’s…” His eyes closed, his jaw tightening. He pulled away from Chrollo and stood up, leaving him on the ground by the fire. “No. I’m going to go bathe. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Chrollo blinked, staring up at the hunter in disbelief. “Oh, well,” he murmured, beginning to lift himself off the ground. “I’ll come with you.” It was so hot here. A dip in a river would be heaven.

“No you won’t,” Silva grunted, looking off into the trees. “Stay here. Finish making the camp up. I don’t need you hanging on me as I wash.” He turned and began to move towards the tree line. “It’s hot enough right now as it is.” 

It stung more than it should have. Chrollo crossed his arms and sat back down, glaring at Silva’s shoulders as he walked off into the woods. What was that all about? “Fine then!” he shouted at his retreating back. “Don’t drown yourself!”

Silva didn’t even react, and within a few seconds, he disappeared entirely, vanishing amongst the thick foliage and hanging branches. Chrollo sighed and kicked at a log half in the fire, watching the sparks rise up in a wave nearly as angry as he was. What on earth was going on with him? Chrollo had been around plenty of men, but in his experience they tended to sweeten their disposition after getting off as much as Silva had. 

“His loss, then,” he muttered to himself, glaring into the crackling fire. If he didn’t want to touch Chrollo, then he didn’t have to. It would have been nice to have been rejected in a kinder way, but Silva had always been a rough brute of a man, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Rubbing at his eyes, Chrollo told himself to stop thinking about it. It didn’t matter. Not really. Silva was probably just irritated from all the walking and the humidity. There was no point in taking it personally. 

Chrollo sighed. Logically, he knew that, but it was still hard not to be upset. Things had been going well, hadn’t they? What a mess this had turned into. He really hoped it was just the weather. He really hoped the irritability would pass like a bad storm. Maybe it would once they got out of this forest. 

But that begged the question of where they even were right now. Chrollo rolled onto his knees and looked for Silva’s bag, spotting it off against a far tree. He moved towards it, digging into the bag for the map he knew to be inside. Silva had been so cagey about where they were heading. Any attempts to pick the next destination had been met with staunch refusal to Chrollo’s utter chagrin. If Silva thought he could bogart the map, though, he had another thing coming. 

Clothes, whetstones, some dried jerky– Chrollo rooted through it all, snagging a piece of jerky to chew as he searched for what he knew had to be inside. Gods, Silva was a slob. Nothing was organized in here. The clothes were all wrinkled, the weapons strewn about in a manner that Chrollo figured had to be dangerous. It was only after a few minutes of constant digging that his fingers brushed crisp parchment tucked inside a side pocket. Smiling victoriously around his mouthful, Chrollo swallowed and yanked it free, setting it in his lap. 

His smile morphed into a confused frown a moment later when he realized he had grabbed two pieces of parchment, not just one. The one on top, the thicker of the two, opened up to reveal the map. Chrollo glanced at it, tracing his fingertip along the route they had taken thus far. They had been walking for a couple days since the last village, their progress directed towards the south. Traveling at Silva’s side had given him a rough estimate of distance and walking speed, and with a bit of quick addition, he gathered they were somewhere within the Berserian Forest. 

Chrollo bit his lip, his finger traveling a little lower over an x that marked what he knew to be an entrance to the Underdark. That x… that hadn’t been there before, had it? Chrollo would have noticed it when he had stolen the map, wouldn’t he? He drew the map closer to his face, the evening far from too dark for him to see through. A cursory sniff told him the ink was fresh. Much fresher than the rest around it. 

Running his fingers through his hair, Chrollo tried to keep the inevitable thoughts at bay. It was just a coincidence, right? Silva had probably just marked the Underdark entrance to make sure they steered clear of it. They were heading south because there had to be some major city he wanted to go to. A city with big bounties and a big enough crowd that Chrollo could get lost in; a place where Chrollo didn’t have to worry about being seen or targeted. 

His heart lurched in his chest when he forced himself to look back down at the map. Once the forest ended, there was nothing southwards. Nothing besides a few insignificant dots that symbolized villages too small to bother with. 

A branch snapped somewhere behind him and Chrollo whirled around, breath choked and adrenaline pumping like a heady cocktail of fear and instinct. He scanned the darkening treeline. Was it Silva? An ambush? 

He jumped half a foot in the air a moment later, only to catch himself when his eyes recognized the disturbance for what it was. A squirrel ran out through the clearing, darting past him to reach the other side of the camp. Chrollo let out a short gasp of a laugh, smacking his cheeks a little. His heart hammered in his chest. He needed to calm down. This was silly. This was so silly. He knew nothing at all, really. Not nearly enough to be getting so paranoid, at any rate. 

“Just breathe,” he told himself under his breath, rubbing at his eyes. “Just. Breathe.” 

A much needed breeze rolled through the clearing, cooling the sweat on his brow. The leaves whispered and the grass answered, the parchment crinkling along, begging to be included. Chrollo looked down at the other sheet, his hand stalling just above it. A feeling of disquiet filled him, only growing stronger when his touched the papery surface. For some reason, he didn’t know if he wanted to look at it. 

He closed his eyes, laughing at himself a little. What was he so afraid of? It was just a little piece of paper, no bigger than a sheaf from a book. He snatched up the page and opened with his eyes still closed, taking in a deep breath, refusing to let his smile fall. Silly. So silly.

Silly as it was, he couldn’t help but count to three before he opened his eyes. 

Confusion greeted him first one he did. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, the thick, ornate script a little hard to read. He ran his finger beneath the first line, parsing out slowly what was written.  _ Here by that which has been agreed up in order of His Lordship in search of the aforementioned…  _ Chrollo relaxed a bit, realizing it was just a contract. For a bounty? Some sort of acquisition, it looked like. Was this what they were going south for? Chrollo wondered who on earth could have given it to Silva. They had been together pretty much the whole time. 

Chrollo cursed whoever had written this. He scooted closer to the fire in hopes that the unnecessary light might help him read the looping, cramped script easier. There should be a name on here, one that told who had ordered the bounty. So much legal-speak. It was a wonder Silva was able to read any of this at all. He supposed that working with these types of contracts often allowed for a certain amount of proficiency. It would be a necessary skill to learn if Chrollo wanted to be a hunter too. 

With that in mind, he set to studying the page before him. First came a few paragraphs of various clauses, it looked like, all outlining the various rights and claims each party had. Things to protect from scams and double-crosses, a few lines here and there to account for injuries and compensations. Whoever had written this was thorough. Exceedingly so. Silva was dealing with a professional, one who knew what they were doing and weren’t afraid of covering every single possibility that might arise. 

Moving on, Chrollo narrowed his eyes at the next section. His attention wavered when he was met with another thick block of text, the script all the more cramped, the words nearly unreadable. He snapped back into focus when he caught sight of a tangled  _ Dr–.  _ Could it… No, there was no way. It couldn’t say Drow, could it?

It took a moment for him to realize his heart was pounding. Chrollo looked down and covered his heart with his hand with a frown. He needed to calm down, he told himself. It was too early to be making snap assumptions. Just keep reading. It was probably nothing. 

The next paragraph made his heart stutter. For a moment, he swore it stopped entirely. The script changed suddenly as if written in another hand. The words seemed illuminated, drawing his eye and stealing his breath from his lungs as mercilessly as a punch to the gut. 

_ Upon completion of the outlined task, His Lordship, the renowned Hisoka Morrow, Purveyor of the Western Underdark and the most loyal servant of the Council–  _

His eyes began to blur, so much so that he could barely read what remained. He didn’t need to, though. He would know the hand of his lover anywhere. How many years had he sat at Hisoka’s side, watching him work, watching him sign document after document, ending lives with just an errant scratch of his plumed quill? Chrollo sagged forward, catching himself in the dirt, something like anger flooding his veins. 

What was this? How could this be? It had to be a mistake. He forced himself to look, to see past the fury, the betrayal. 

_ Signed by the Hunter Silva Zoldyck on behalf of his most noble Lordship in that the return of one Chrollo Lucilfer be made swift and punctually– _

“What are you doing on the ground, brat?” an annoyed voice asked, the forest crackling and crunching in deference to his arrival. “I’m gone for an hour and you’re already making a mess of yourself.”

Chrollo was on his feet in an instant, the contract clenched in his shaking fist. The very air tasted bitter on his tongue, and when he saw Silva, saw him with his shirt slung over his shoulder, his long hair wet and tossed over alongside it, as guiltless as priest, Chrollo saw red. Blood red.

“What is this, Silva?” he breathed, his body cold, his breath coming short. “What did you do?”

Silva had the audacity to look confused, but it only lasted for a moment. After that, he just looked ashamed. “Chrollo,” he murmured, taking a step closer, reaching for him with the hands that had signed the contract. With hands that had sold Chrollo out like chattel. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?!” Chrollo shouted, eyes pricking with moisture. He threw the contract up to Silva’s eye level, reaching for a dagger from his hip. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you sold me out!”

The man snarled, moving into Chrollo’s space. “I didn’t,” he bit, and if he was just a touch more angry, maybe Chrollo would buy it. “You have it all wrong.”

“Do I?” Chrollo hissed. “Then explain why you have my lover’s signature on this?” He brandished the parchment, jabbing the point of his dagger at the looping name tucked so neatly into the corner of the page. “Explain why the hell you signed next to it?”

“Put the knife down, brat,” Silva ordered, somehow keeping cool despite the tempest of emotions assaulting Chrollo. He lifted his hands placatingly, hair still dripping wetly from the river he had just come from. For a moment, the memory of him submerged in the water and spitting curses rose up in Chrollo’s mind, overlaying the present like a cruel joke. 

“I won’t,” Chrollo breathed, throwing down the contract, holding the dagger out in front of him. “Not until you explain yourself.”

“I did it for you, alright?” Silva shouted, his loud voice rolling through the clearing, echoing off the trees like a clap of thunder. His chest heaved and his glare was as hot as the fire behind them. “They came to me. Threatened to break my arms if I didn’t hear them out. You miss your lover so much? Well, he misses you too, brat.”

“What are you talking about?” The dagger in his hand shook, his feet moving him back as Silva steadily worked his way closer. “Hisoka did this? How did they find me?”

Silva rolled his eyes. “They’ve been tracking us since the cave,” he grunted, averting his eyes, glaring somewhere past Chrollo. Chrollo ached to look, to follow his gaze, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on Silva. “There are dozens of hunters looking for you. I took the damn contract to get the information they had. To see how much they knew.”

The dagger fell an inch and Silva matched it, moving that much closer. “How… How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked. “I saw the reward. I saw how much he was promising.” It was more than enough to incite betrayal. Far more than enough. 

“Because,” Silva said, his voice soft though his features were hard. “We’re partners, aren’t we?”

Chrollo froze, his eyes wide. He wanted to believe him; every inch of him wanted to believe that Silva spoke the truth. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the man before him, looking him in the eye, searching for the truth. Silva sighed and drew ever closer, arms outstretched to embrace him.

When he wrapped his arms around Chrollo, it almost felt the same as it had before. Silva was warm. So warm. “Do you… Do you promise?” Chrollo’s voice was shaky, his face buried in Silva’s chest. The dagger slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a dull thud, nerves soothed by the man’s familiar scent, by his addicting warmth. 

Silva didn’t answer. He held tighter, holding a hand to Chrollo’s head, keeping his face on his shoulder. 

“Silva?” Chrollo whispered, tugging against his hold, stomach twisting anxiously. 

“I’m sorry,” came the low, whispered reply.

There was a sharp jab as something was stabbed into Chrollo’s thigh, and then a dizzying rush as the world began to tilt on its axis. Chrollo clung to Silva’s chest, staring up at him, confusion brimming in his eyes. “What?” he gasped, his knees giving out. Silva caught him before he could fall, but he hid his face from Chrollo, staring at the ground. 

“Just sleep,” Silva’s low voice rumbled, Chrollo’s eyes so heavy that they refused to remain open. “Just sleep and it’ll all be over once you wake.”

All over? What would be? But blackness encroached greedily, devouring him completely before he could ask. 


	8. Chapter Seven

Low voices wrapped around Chrollo softly, words lilting and falling in a cadence he couldn’t quite understand. Where was he? What was he doing? The world was cold here, cold and dark, his skin prickling unpleasantly in the wind. Cold everywhere but some, unpleasant everywhere but some. It was warm against his cheek, soft and gentle like sun-bleached cotton.

More voices. Chrollo felt a thrum beneath him, his hands hanging, his legs dangling. Silva? Was that Silva’s voice? He wanted to look, to check, but his eyes felt so heavy. He couldn’t open them. 

“-don’t care what he’s doing,” Silva’s voice murmured, muted but still angry, as if he were keeping quiet out of politeness and not much else. “Get him down here before I leave and take him with me.”

“Please, sir–”

“That’s _Hunter_ to you,” Silva interrupted, and Chrollo twitched at the tone, trying to move his fingers to soothe Silva before he got them in trouble. 

“A thousand apologies,” the other voice said in a tone that was anything but apologetic. “ _Hunter_ Zoldyck, please. His lordship is on his way. He is very busy seeing to his affairs, but you must understand that he is most eager to be reunited with his lover.”

Something about that made Chrollo uneasy, his self-preservation prodding at the base of his spine, urging him to move, to do something. The darkness was too heavy though, too smothering. Chrollo groaned and shifted, silencing the conversation for the moment. 

“S… Silva?” Chrollo slurred, his eyelids so heavy. “What… ‘m so tired.”

He felt Silva’s hand stroke along his thigh. “I know, I know,” the man sighed, his voice tight. “Just stay asleep, okay? We’re almost done.”

Done? Done with what? A job? It was so hard to think with the fog in his head, with the cold distracting him. Chrollo mumbled his questions, but Silva just hushed him again. It was odd, that. Silva wasn’t usually so withholding. 

“Get him here _now!”_ Silva hissed. “If he wakes up before I’m gone, I will make sure you are the one who feels my wrath.”

“I cannot predict when his lordship will arrive!” the voice hissed back, and the fog shifted a little, a face taking shape in Chrollo’s mind. Was that Dezik? But that didn’t make sense at all, did it? What was Hisoka’s footman doing here on the surface? Dezik sounded mad. Silva shouldn’t antagonize him. Whatever it was Silva needed, Chrollo was sure he could get it so long as he kept a cooler head. He patted at Silva’s body in a way he hoped was soothing. It was hard to tell where he was touching. It felt a little like he was draped over Silva’s shoulder. What an odd place for him to be. 

Chrollo felt more than heard Silva’s responding growl. “You have one minute,” he said through clenched teeth, “to bring him here or I leave.”

There was silence, and then there was a tight, put upon sigh. “Fine,” Dezik snarled. “Do _not_ move.” Footsteps clacked against a tile floor, disappearing slowly, leaving them alone. Chrollo shivered again, wondering where they were for it to be so very cold. Dezik, the cold, the strange conversation… 

Why, it was almost as if he were back in the Underdark. 

In the span of a heartbeat, Chrollo’s eyes opened, the fog lifting in a horrible, heart-lurching snap. He struggled viciously before he knew quite what he was doing. 

“Let me go!” he grunted, his heart hammering in his chest. The tile below him was familiar. The walls too. The cold, the oppressive, biting cold was the most familiar, and with horror, Chrollo realized he was indeed back in the Underdark. 

Worse yet, it seemed that he was back home entirely.

“Chrollo, Chrollo, calm down dammit!” Silva rasped, trying and failing to hold him in place on his shoulder. “You’re safe–”

“Let me go!” Silva lost his grip and dropped him onto the cold, hard tile floor. Chrollo hit the ground hard but didn’t let it slow him down, kicking and biting at Silva’s reaching hands. The sleeping draught weighed down his limbs, but Chrollo fought through it. No. _No._ He wasn’t done! He wasn’t ready to come back here. Pain blossomed dully against his side, spreading outwards from the impact of the fall, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now but getting away. Hisoka was here and Silva had carried Chrollo right back into his lover’s suffocating arms. 

“Ah,” a horribly familiar voice sighed. “Finally. You took longer than promised, Hunter Zoldyck.”

Chrollo froze like a hare before a fox, and Silva was back on his feet in an instant, forgetting Chrollo for the moment to address the Drow before him. “I’m not used to coming down here,” Silva said, and Chrollo saw his eyes flicker down to look at him, something like concern or worry softening his face. Was he worried that Chrollo had hurt himself? Or that he had just damaged his client’s property? Chrollo bared his teeth at the human and Silva let out a sigh, looking back up. “You could have sent someone to meet me at the tunnel near the surface.”

Footsteps clicked against the cold tiles and Chrollo refused to move his head to see his lover approach. But it didn’t matter much, since Hisoka leaned over into his field of vision, smiling the same sharp, hungry smile he always wore when he looked upon Chrollo. “I think given the amount you’re being paid, you should have gift wrapped him along with delivering him to me. Don’t complain, Hunter. You won’t find sympathy from me for your efforts.”

Chrollo didn’t know how to feel as he looked into the eyes of his lover. Everything was a blur, happiness warring it out with anger, the relief nearly smothered by blinding betrayal. Hisoka was here and Chrollo was home, and a part of him celebrated it. How could it not? The days full of homesickness and yearning fell away in an instant, and for the life of him, Chrollo wanted to embrace Hisoka.

Then reality set in with the cold persistence of an icy draft. This wasn’t okay. This wasn’t okay at all. 

Hisoka hadn’t changed a bit in the time they had been apart. He still stood tall and handsome, clothed in expensive garments that put Silva’s simple traveling garb to shame. Chrollo wrinkled his nose and blinked away the drug trying to drag him under. It was obvious that Hisoka had dressed purposefully today for this. He wore the fitted silver shirt that Chrollo liked so much. His high-collared cloak added to his regal appearance, something Hisoka usually eschewed when home and relaxing. It was the same cloak he wore when they first met, pressed and prepared in anticipation of this moment. 

Chrollo hated him for the gesture. It was easy to tell that Hisoka thought this some grand, heart-felt reunion more than the kidnapping it really was. He rolled onto his stomach to avoid looking at him, contenting himself with the pattern on the tile and the thought that Silva and Hisoka were no doubt about to butt heads. Chrollo hid his face in his arms, shivering as the cold tile added to the cold already assaulting his body. He had missed Hisoka more than he cared to admit right now, but he most assuredly had not missed this cold.

“My pay?” Silva grunted, and Chrollo heard Hisoka chuckle before feeling a warm hand rest on his naked back. Chrollo startled a little at the touch. He hadn’t heard Hisoka kneel. 

“Right down to business already? And I’ve only just arrived. Answer me some questions first, Hunter,” his lover crooned, tracing meaningless shapes along Chrollo’s bare skin. “I’m so curious as to where you found him.”

Chrollo tried to resist the instinctual urge to lean into Hisoka’s touch. Hisoka was so warm, and his voice so soothing. “I heard about him in a bar,” Silva lied, and Chrollo lifted his head up enough to glare at him. “It wasn’t hard to track him down.”

Hisoka made a thoughtful noise. “And he came above on his own?” he asked, his hand moving to Chrollo’s hair. Chrollo tried to shake him off, but Hisoka was nothing if not persistent. “No sign of another with him? No sign of coercion?” 

Silva’s voice was hard, his desire to leave more than apparent. “None. He came above on his own. Now where is my payment? I don’t see my weight in gold in here.”

“Of course, I have your payment,” Hisoka delivered evenly. “But I would be remiss if I didn’t assure the safety of my purchase before I gave it.”

Silva made a noise of confusion, but Hisoka just laughed, gently turning Chrollo over again. He smiled down at Chrollo, his red hair backlit by the spelled lights above, a bloody halo embracing his handsome face. “Welcome home, my sweet blackbird,” he said softly to Chrollo, pushing the hair away from his eyes gently. “For every bruise and marr I find on him, I’m docking you fifty pounds of gold.”

He said it with the same tone he used on Chrollo, and for that reason, Silva didn’t pick up on it for a moment. But when he did, he strode closer, eyes angry and fists tight at his side. “Excuse me?” he said, looking ready to grab Hisoka by the cloak to rip him away from Chrollo. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Hisoka looked anything but challenged. He simply raised a brow and shrugged, still combing through Chrollo’s hair with his long, sharp fingers. “Wasn’t it?” he mused, glancing at the angry bounty hunter dismissively. “I’m afraid that if my agents failed to make mention of it, it still doesn’t negate the contract you signed. Or perhaps,” Hisoka smiled, “you simply didn’t read the fine print?”

If Chrollo were in a better state of mind, he might have felt some measure of pity for Silva. Trusting a Drow? Really? He hadn’t thought Silva so naive. But, as it was, Chrollo could barely keep his eyes open, let alone care about the man who had just sold him out receiving a fair wage. Instead, he rolled onto his shoulder and shook off Hisoka’s hands. There was almost no chance of him reaching the door, even less of him somehow managing to navigate the dangerous streets in this state, but Chrollo really would rather die than not try. 

“You can’t be serious,” Silva deadpanned somewhere above, the two of them so wrapped up in their posturing that they failed to realize Chrollo’s plan. “What are you going to do? Strip him naked on the foyer floor and count every meaningless mark you see? That’s completely unacceptable.”

“Is it now?” Hisoka murmured, rising up onto his feet. Silva was a large man, but Hisoka was too, especially for a Drow. He stood only a few inches shorter than the human, his confidence making up the difference between them. “I fail to see how it’s unacceptable to be worried about the state of my lover. You did just drop him onto the tile in front of me. What guarantee do I have that you haven’t employed a similar care in handling him up until this point?”

Chrollo wanted to yell at them both to shut up, but it was taking every ounce of strength he still had to keep moving. He had gone maybe a yard, and only a few more separated him from the door. His pipe dream was beginning to smoke, and he held his barely carefully, desperate to keep it alight. 

“Because,” Silva bit, taking a step closer to Hisoka, “I’m a professional. I do my job and I do my job well. That’s why your agent sought me out.”

“I’ve met a rather large number of _professionals_ in my life, Hunter Zoldyck,” Hisoka said, completely uncowed. “And a great many of them hide behind reputation as if it exempts them from personal accountability. You did sign my contract, as is respected and understood in your profession. Therefore it is my right to assure myself that the job you’ve done for me is deserving of such a large sum of money.”

Chrollo stopped crawling. He seethed and rolled himself onto his back, propping himself up as high as he could get. “I am not some _job_ to be _haggled over_ ,” he cut, and both men startled away from their pissing match to look for him. “Stop talking as if I’m a piece of meat, you fucking butchers!” 

Hisoka’s eyes went wide when he saw how far Chrollo had gotten, and he was quick to close the distance between them, hefting Chrollo into his arms easily. “Oh, of course not, pet,” Hisoka tried to soothe. “Pay no mind to us. We can always sort this out later.”

It was almost funny how Silva avoided eye contact with Chrollo. It might have succeeded to be if not for the utter betrayal he had offered up. “I’m not leaving until I’ve been paid the promised amount,” the hunter said, crossing his arms pointedly. His axe was still slung over his back, and Chrollo knew well enough how fast the man could draw it if pressed. 

“If that’s how you want to handle this, then by all means,” Hisoka smiled, nuzzling Chrollo’s hair with his cheek. “You’re more than welcome to stay as a guest in our home until a proper price can be agreed upon. Perhaps this is better anyway. I’m most eager to see to my wayward lover. I’ve missed him terribly.”

Chrollo grimaced, smacking at Hisoka’s chest weakly. Silva? Stay with them? Anger aside, Chrollo could think of a dozen reasons why that was a horrible idea, their affair residing proudly at the top of the list. He shook his head and opened his mouth to protest it, but Hisoka kissed him soundly, silencing him, gesturing with a hand at some servant to settle Silva. Without breaking the kiss, Hisoka was walking off, leaving the hunter somewhere in the foyer as Chrollo was whisked away, mouth devoured by his lover. 

He blamed the drug for why he let Hisoka indulge for so long. Chrollo’s cheeks flushed as Hisoka licked into his mouth, tongue and taste so familiar that it was instinctual to accept them eagerly. Chrollo closed his eyes, his hand loosening in Hisoka’s shirt. It felt like a dream, the kiss. Hazy and warm and comforting enough that it made Chrollo want to fall asleep. 

Hisoka broke the kiss after a few moments, the hallways disappearing behind him in a fog of blurred color and glowing faerie lights. “That’s a good pet,” he crooned, peppering Chrollo’s cheeks with more kisses. “So well-behaved. I suppose it’s the drug still, isn’t it? Does it come and go? You looked so angry with me before.”

“I still am,” Chrollo mumbled, pushing through the stupor. He was so angry. Blindingly angry. Angry at Hisoka and angry at himself for wanting to forget it in favor of more kisses. 

Shouldering open the door to their bedroom, Hisoka smiled winsomely down at Chrollo. “This isn’t at all how I had imagined our reunion,” he admitted, sounding mournful. “But we’re together again, so isn’t that what’s important? Not the insignificant little details?” 

Insignificant details? Like how Hisoka had kidnapped him just to drag him back into his bed? He pushed weakly at Hisoka’s chest, drowning already in the familiar scent his lover wore. Everything around him was familiar in the worst way. The room looked as it had the day he left, dripping in luxury and scented faintly with perfume. The walls were lined with dark, expressive paintings, the floor covered in thick, plush rugs. The chest at the foot of the bed dripped with gems and inlaid gold, and Chrollo made himself look away, knowing it was empty of all the jewelry it usually held. Did Hisoka know? Did he know how Chrollo sold the gifts he had given?

Now wasn’t the time to worry about it. Hisoka brushed aside the dark crimson curtains from the enormous bed, laying him down in the blood red sheets. Chrollo could see glimpses of the city through the enormous vaulted window at the far end of the room before Hisoka let the curtains fall back into place, hiding them from the room, from the world at large. It had been dark outside, but that didn’t mean much to a realm beneath the earth. 

Faux moonlight streamed inside, glowing through the thick curtains draping the canopy of the bed. How many times had Hisoka taken Chrollo against one of the windows? Against one of the walls? The memories were flooding him too quickly to dam, the scent clinging to the sheer, red sheets only adding to the deluge. Did Hisoka still have all of his things here? Were his clothes and baubles and books still nestled away in the large wardrobe against the wall? 

“I don’t want to look at you right now,” Chrollo mumbled, fighting through the drug. He needed to stop caring. To stop thinking about the parts of this place that felt like home. He looked up at the ceiling instead, taking in the familiar shape of the chandelier hanging overhead, the focal point from which the bed’s curtains hung. Its graceful curves and polished surface were redolent of white bone. What on earth had Silva dosed him with? It felt like stumbling through thick mud, his mind filled with fog. “Where’s Silva?”

Hisoka hummed as he took in Chrollo on the bed, seating himself on the edge of the mattress to card his fingers through Chrollo’s hair happily. “Pay no mind to that human, pet. He was just a hired hand. Unless of course you want him for something? He is rather strapping, isn’t he?” Hisoka mused, kissing the corner of Chrollo’s damp eye. “If you want him as a pet, pet, I’m sure I can arrange it.”

It took most of his strength, but Chrollo managed to shove Hisoka’s face back with the palm of his hand. “Would you stop that?” he muttered, leveraging himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, his stomach clenched, but he gritted his teeth and kept upright, glaring at Hisoka’s smiling face. 

“Stop what?” 

Chrollo narrowed his eyes. “Stop acting like you’ve done something worthy of praise.”

“Haven’t I?” Hisoka asked, leaning closer. Like this, surrounded by the red curtains, his hair looked all the bloodier. “Haven’t I brought you home? Haven’t I brought you back to where you’re loved and adored, away from the place that hated and hunted you like a beast? I don’t ask for you to thank me, pet, but I expected some measure of understanding.”

“Oh, I understand fully well what you thought you were doing,” Chrollo hissed. 

“Then why do you reject me?” Hisoka asked, prodding like a child fascinated by a bruise. “Why won’t you let me hold you? Is that so much to expect when I’ve been fearing you dead?” He reached out a hand but seemed shocked when Chrollo pulled away.

“Then maybe you should have thought about that before you hired Silva to bring me back like an unruly pet,” Chrollo snapped, eyes pricking with moisture. He scrubbed at his eyes, hating how worked up he was, how hard it was to control himself with the drug dulling his thoughts, highlighting his pain. Hisoka may have paid him, but Silva still took it. He took the job and he treated Chrollo like a mark, like some criminal or miscreant to be dealt with and deposited for a sum. He had thought they were past that, that they were more than that. But apparently they weren’t. 

Chrollo was such an idiot. 

Hisoka leaned in closer. Chrollo had to hold himself back from leaning into the comfort he knew his lover would offer. “It’s alright,” he cooed, resting his hand on Chrollo’s thigh, his long fingers squeezing gently. “Any hunter would have done it if they had the chance. I offered a large reward for your return. Only the best for you, so don’t take it so personally.” 

“I have to take it personally,” Chrollo muttered, looking through his hands at Hisoka’s face. At his handsome, familiar face. Chrollo had never been so upset with him before. He wasn’t even sure how to handle all he felt. “He was… we were fucking, Hisoka. How else am I supposed to take this betrayal?”

Hisoka froze, his expression broadcasting his anger and shock. His fingers tightened in on Chrollo’s thigh, his sharp teeth bared. “He fucked you?” he murmured, voice still smooth and level despite his budding fury. “Why, perhaps I should pay him even less in that case, if he were already taking his payment from you.”

“Don’t be crude,” Chrollo muttered. He was hurting, but he didn’t have to be the only one in pain. “He can’t take what’s freely given.”

His words hit just how he had wanted them to. Hisoka winced, his dark cheeks flushing. “So,” Hisoka led, taking Chrollo by the chin to make him meet his eye. “Am I to assume then that you’ve been having all manner of fun in the world above?”

Chrollo huffed out a breath. Hisoka was trying to be scary and it wasn’t working at all. “That depends on your definition of fun, I suppose, now doesn’t it?” he delivered. “If you’re wondering if I’ve been sleeping around, then yes.” Though, he hadn’t. Not really. Silva was the only one he’d trusted, even if that trust had been misplaced. “I’m sure you have been too.” 

“You’d be wrong to assume that, pet,” Hisoka said softly. His hand was gentle as it moved to cup Chrollo’s cheek. “How could I? I’ve been searching tirelessly for you. Do you hate me now? Is that why you let that human touch you?”

“It… it wasn’t like that.” Chrollo tried to push Hisoka’s hand away, but Hisoka just took it in hand instead. He laced their fingers together, bringing them up to his lips to kiss. Cheeks hot, Chrollo looked away. It was awful doing this in their bed. Chrollo wanted to invite his lover in, not argue with him like he deserved. “Stop making this about you. I’m not going to forgive you for dragging me back here just because you didn’t sleep with anyone while I was gone. You’ve never cared before. I’m not the one in the wrong here.”

“Is that so?”

Chrollo didn’t like the look on Hisoka’s face. “Yes, that’s so,” he muttered, dragging his hand away from his lover. 

“So if I did strip you bare, would I find his marks on your lovely skin?” Hisoka asked. He edged closer, refusing to break eye contact. “Did you spurn me in as many ways as you could up there while running from our bed?”

“No, you wouldn’t, and don’t even think about trying to check.” Chrollo glared, fists tightening in the sheets at his sides. “Why are you acting so jealous? You know I’ve had other lovers. I know you have as well. What makes this so different?”

Jaw tight, Hisoka looked down, his eyes searing as they gazed upon Chrollo’s body. “You left me, Chrollo. I’ve no idea what to think. For instance, what is this you’re wearing?” Hisoka asked, drawing his hand along Chrollo’s exposed midriff. “You’ve never worn such revealing things before. Not around others. Not for anyone but me. Did the surface change you, or are you just trying to hurt me more?” 

Chrollo smacked his hand away. “You sound so bitter.” Jealousy coated Hisoka’s words thickly in ways he had never heard it do before. “I wasn’t going to dress like some noble’s pet up there. I wanted to be taken seriously.”

Hisoka raised a brow, looping his fingers through the laces on Chrollo’s thighs. “And you thought this was the way to do it?” he whispered, tugging harshly at the strings, loosening them. “I can’t say I hate the look, but Chrollo, the thought of those humans looking at you…”

Before Chrollo could react, his reflexes so dull and slow, Hisoka was on top of him, his lips to Chrollo’s ear and his breath hot along Chrollo’s chilled skin. “It makes me want to slaughter them all,” he crooned, fingers tight in the laces, in Chrollo’s hair. “They aren’t worthy of seeing any part of you. I know you’re mine, Chrollo, but I can still be jealous.”

Chrollo had forgotten this. He had forgotten how warm Hisoka was, how pervasive his words, how strong his body. But the haze filling his head was wasn’t strong enough to tell him that he didn’t had reason enough to be angry, and nothing Hisoka had to say was going to assuage him. With his hands on Hisoka’s shoulders, Chrollo shoved with all his might, throwing Hisoka off him and back onto the floor. The curtains waved like pools of blood with the movement, parting an inch to let the moonlight stream inside. Their private world was sundered, rent in two. 

“Get off of me!” he grunted, forcing himself to sit up, to keep from letting Hisoka back on top of him again. Hisoka was gathering him from his graceful sprawl, a frown fixed to his face. “Don’t touch me,” Chrollo said, threading his voice with ice. “Get out. I’m not going to sit back and let you have me after what you’ve done.”

“Are you punishing me, pet?” he asked incredulously, his hands on the mattress. “All I did was bring you back home.”

“You drugged me,” Chrollo hissed, turning and kicking at his lover, shoving him back towards the door. The curtains split open, framing Hisoka in their bloody folds. “You sent out hunters to rip me from my wandering and carried me back into your bed. You paid them. You paid my partner to betray me. You deserve every ounce of spite I give you, Hisoka,” he spat, grabbing a pillow to throw at Hisoka for good measure, chasing him towards the door. “Now get out! I don’t want to see your face!” 

Chrollo expected Hisoka to argue. He expected Hisoka to glare and yell and push, but instead, Hisoka grabbed the pillow from the floor and tossed it back onto the bed. “You’re tired. It’s understandable, I suppose,” he murmured, turning towards the door with shoulders stiff. “We’ll talk more after you’ve come to your senses, pet.”

“Get the hell out,” Chrollo hissed. 

Sighing, Hisoka opened the door. “I did miss you, Chrollo,” he said, slipping through the doorway. His golden eyes met Chrollo’s for a moment, intense and piercing in a way that twisted Chrollo’s stomach to knots. “Rest well.”

The door closed slowly and Chrollo didn’t allow himself to relax until it did. His heart hammered in his chest, his cheeks flushed and eyes stinging. The pillow in his hands smelled of Hisoka, and Chrollo punched at it weakly, cursing the drug that made him feel so out of sorts. Scrubbing viciously at his eyes, Chrollo threw himself back into the bed, ignoring how soft the sheets were, how comfortable the mattress. It still smelled like them both, even after all this time. He told himself he hadn’t missed it. He told himself it wasn’t a lie. With a swipe of his hand, he closed the curtain again, sealing himself from the world and all its ugly, accurate truths. 

Burying his face in the pillows, Chrollo shut his eyes and tried not to shake. He would make Hisoka regret this. Him and Silva both. 


	9. Chapter Eight

Silva began to regret his decision pretty much as soon as Hisoka, _vile Drow Lord of the Western Undercity Hisoka,_ insisted he stay a few days before his payment could be gathered. He had already felt horrible enough with the guilt eating at him, but now he had the added stress of being a human in a den of Drow. At any moment, he expected to be attacked, either by his gracious host or his spurned and betrayed lover. 

_ You deserve it _ , his inner voice muttered as Silva once again checked every inch of the guest room for traps or hidden poison caches. _After what you did to Chrollo, you deserve anything coming to you._

Frowning, Silva let the mattress fall back into place. He deserved a lot, but thinking it like that wasn’t going to help things. If only Hisoka had come and met him sooner, perhaps Silva wouldn’t have had to think about this at all. He could’ve been up above by now, his gold in hand as he paved the way for a cushy future without a backwards glance. Now he had to live with the guilt and the fact that he probably wasn’t ever going to see that gold. 

He had to live with the fact that he had betrayed one of the best things he’d found during his travels.

Silva grimaced at the floor. Part of him wished there was some poisoned dart or bladed trap waiting for him in this room. What an ass he had been. The sooner Hisoka could gather the gold, the better off Silva would be. Chrollo would escape again no doubt, and then Silva could relax knowing that things had worked themselves out in the end.  

A knock sounded on the door and Silva nearly jumped out of his skin. Who could that be? He reached for his knife on the bedspread, slipping it into his boot should it prove to be an assassin. Silva hadn’t seen hide nor hair of another soul since he had been shoved unceremoniously into this room after Hisoka had whisked Chrollo away. 

Opening the door just a crack, Silva peered out into the hallway. “Who is it?” he asked, eyes going wide as whoever it was shoved on the other side, moving him easily, almost as if he weighed nothing. Silva struggled to brace it shut, but his attempts were in vain. A dour-faced Drow woman stood in the doorway, looking anything but out of breath after that display of strength. 

If she had any thoughts on his attempts at denying her entry, she didn’t make them obvious. “The master sends for you,” the servant said quietly, her nose wrinkled in distaste. Her white hair was wound into a tight bun on top of her head, her eyes a piercing red color that reminded him far too much of fresh blood.  

“Does he have my pay?” Silva asked, on edge. Did Drow not need to blink? Her gaze was disconcerting.

Instead of answering, the servant narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down as if she found him wanting in some regard. “No,” she said finally, meeting his eye after one last disapproving pass. “It is time for the evening supper. His lordship wishes for you to join him. Follow.”

Before Silva could so much as ask why, she was turning and leaving, her pace fast enough that he rushed to follow after her. He barely had the time to close the door behind him before jogging down the hall, her gait misleadingly long for how short her legs were. “Hey, what’s the rush?” he grunted, catching up just as she turned a corner. Silva tried to keep his bearings but the harried pace and unsettling decor made it difficult. 

The servant just harrumphed, holding her head high as she led him through the halls. “His lordship shall not be kept waiting,” she said, barely glancing at him as she spoke. “Tis the height of rudeness for a guest to assert himself so.”

It was the height of rudeness where Silva came from to treat a guest so abrasively. Silva held his tongue on the insult he wanted to lob, contenting himself with the thought that as fast as they were walking, he’d soon be where he needed to be and free of her company. 

He was proven right when after only another minute or so, they came upon a pair of thick, polished doors. The servant stopped and reached out a hand, opening them with an ease that surprised Silva. For her slight frame, he hadn’t expected to see such strength, but then again, he supposed that Drow were made of tougher stuff than humans. Peering past her, he looked inside, eager to see if Chrollo were anywhere to be found inside. 

A hall large enough for a banquet opened up before Silva, the servant letting him enter first. The ceilings were high, far higher than the outside of the manor seemed to be capable of boasting, and from the very center hung an elaborate, antiquated looking chandelier. Though it held at least a hundred candles, none of them were lit. Instead, the glow of fox fire illuminated the room, glistening eerily off the polished silver plates and cutlery clustered on one end of the enormous table. 

Looking back at the servant, Silva cleared his throat. “Where is his lordship?” he asked, noting how not a single sound could be heard throughout the grand hall. “Am I dining alone?”

The servant sniffed. “He will be here shortly. Take a seat and begin.” 

If she were any chillier, Silva might freeze solid. Nodding his head, he let out a low sigh, looking back at the places set at the table. There were three places set, two close together and the other a few seats away, back to the door. Silva didn’t need to ask to know where he was intended to sit. Despite that, he still turned back to look at the servant, only to find her gone, nothing but dead air and silence in her wake. It figured, he thought, walking towards the table, that he would be left here alone to await Hisoka. 

At least he didn’t have to wait for dinner. The table was already laden with food, from dishes that ranged from whole beasts to stewed vegetables, to bowls filled with all manner of things Silva couldn’t properly identify. He sat himself down in the seat meant for him, judging the food with a careful eye. It certainly smelled edible, even if some of it looked less than normal. 

“Ahh, you beat me here,” a voice called out, and Silva startled a bit, whipping around in his seat to take in the man entering. Hisoka made his entrance quietly, slipping through the door with a grace that seemed to belong to all Drow. He was smiling as he always seemed to do, clothed in a an ensemble that looked more expensive than Silva’s axe with a neckline just as dramatic. His sharp, dark collar bones framed a pendant of turquoise, one that matched Chrollo’s ever-present earrings. 

“Your servant was very brisk,” Silva said, watching the Drow navigate around the table and seat himself in one of the chairs across the way. “I’d be surprised if I didn’t beat you here.”

“Ah, well, Nvidia doesn’t like to waste her time on duties below her,” Hisoka smiled. “You understand. How have you found your rooms? Are they to your liking?” He gestured at the food before them welcomingly. “Of course, help yourself while we get acquainted. If you are a guest here, we should be civil.”

The way he worded it sent Silva’s instincts ringing vaguely somewhere in the back of his mind. “They’re fine. You obviously do very well for yourself,” he said, looking between the dishes carefully. “And, while I’ve got it on my mind, what of my payment?” Silva asked, helping himself to the food closest to him. Meat was usually a safe bet, and he took some of whatever beast it was on the platter at his elbow. Hooved feet and wings? It smelled good, at least. “You’ve kept me waiting for a while now. I’m inclined to believe you don’t intent on paying me.”

Hisoka waved his hand errantly, pouring himself wine from a silver decanter. “It’s being seen to,” he said offhandedly, taking a sip before he bothered to serve himself any real food. “Such impatience to be paid. It’s almost as if you don’t trust me.”

Silva didn’t say anything. He let his look do the talking for him. It prompted a laugh from Hisoka, one that sounded a lot warmer than Silva expected it to. The Drow rested an elbow on the table and stared at him, a small smile on his lips as he took Silva in. Silva ignored him for the most part. Whatever the meat was, it was pretty tasty. Somewhere between a chicken and a goat, but tender enough that it seemed to melt in his mouth. 

“So,” Hisoka began, his golden eyes unsettling enough to make Silva stiffen in his seat.

“So,” Silva parroted, refusing to be intimidated. He took another bite, brow raised.

“My blackbird tells me that you partook of his many charms while he was away.” Hisoka folded his hands on top of the table, hand too close to his knife to bring Silva any measure of comfort. “I must say, I’m not fond of the idea.”

It took only a moment for Silva to parse out what he was saying. The moment it clicked was the moment Silva began to look for an exit, swallowing the bite of food far too quickly to be safe. “Did he now?” Silva replied, wondering just how angry Chrollo was if he were selling Silva out too. As discreetly as he could, Silva edged his boot closer, keeping his own knife within easy reach should he need it. He glanced down at his plate for a moment, wondering if it had been wise to eat so readily. Could it have been poisoned?

Hisoka rested his cheek on his propped up hand, blinking slowly at Silva like a cat debating on going after a mouse. Where Chrollo’s features were soft, Hisoka’s were deathly sharp, his cheekbones chiseled enough to cut should someone get it in their head to try slapping him. Hisoka hummed and smiled, his mood unreadable. “He did,” he said, the pointed white of his teeth just visible past his grinning lips. “He was quite vehement in his rejection of me, but he found the time to make sure I knew just how… _close_ the two of you had become whilst on your travels.”

Was it just a Drow thing to be so damnably vague? Did he know, or was he trying to get Silva to admit to something? Silva wasn’t going to sit here and sweat just because Hisoka found it fun. “We work well together,” he decided to say, figuring that if Hisoka wanted to play, Silva would play too. “Chrollo is a good match to me. He takes direction well.”

“Why, thank you,” Hisoka preened, leaning forward with a smile. “You should have seen how unruly he was the day he first fell into my arms. It’s been a lot of work, but I am most proud of the result.”

Something like jealousy pooled in the pit of Silva’s stomach. So they were talking about sex. He sat back up but kept his boot near, just in case. “About that,” he said, noting how Hisoka perked up at the potential for more. “How did you come to… know Chrollo? For someone so predisposed towards wandering, I find it hard to believe he settled into a life of luxury easily.” Or willingly, for that matter. “Half-Drow aren’t typically accepted down here, are they?”

Leaning back in his seat, Hisoka looked at Silva thoughtfully. “Curious, aren’t you?” he murmured, rolling his eyes. “I suppose Chrollo told you enough to make you so. He is such a wonderfully contradictory puzzle, isn’t he? He came to me first,” Hisoka said, tapping at his bottom lip as he spoke, “some odd half-century ago. I’d certainly never seen the like of him before, so I simply felt I must have him.”

The way Hisoka made it sound, Chrollo was just a pet to him. Grinding his teeth, Silva narrowed his eyes. “Came to you?” he prompted, recalling how Chrollo had said he hadn’t been born in the Underdark, but he had ended up there. “In what way?”

Hisoka visibly adored Silva’s prodding. He smiled his sharp-toothed smile and laughed a little. “In the way that most do,” he said, raising a blood-red brow. “He broke into my manor, pilfered my valuables, and then came for my head. I can still remember it as if it were yesterday. He looked so beautiful bathed in my servants’ blood.” 

Hisoka paused there, laughing at whatever expression Silva wore on his face. “Oh, did I shock you?” he asked, leaning forward in mock concern. “Why, did he never tell you? I’m rather notorious in these parts. My dearest blackbird heard of a reward placed on my head by a rival family and felt the need to fill his purse. It’s all rather romantic if you know how to appreciate such things.”

Coming from a Drow, Silva shouldn’t have been so surprised. He leaned back in his seat, eyes still wide at the thought. “Why didn’t you just kill him?” he asked. “He tried to kill you, didn’t he?”

Waving his hand, Hisoka scoffed. “And waste such perfection? I can always buy more servants, but a lover like that is hard to come by. It’s as you said, after all,” he led, eyes dancing. “Half-Drow are a rarity down here. I simply had to have him.”

“And of the family that sent the hit?” Silva offered. 

Hisoka’s smile grew. “I’m afraid they’re no longer with us,” he said cheerfully, taking his wine glass by the stem to sip from it. “Of course, I had no official hand in that. Our government frowns upon such infighting, and I am nothing if not an upstanding member of our society.”

Silva snorted, taking up his own glass and drinking from it. If it were poisoned, Hisoka would see to him dying even if he did abstain. “I’m sure you’re the picture of civility,” he deadpanned. Drow society wasn’t a very talked about thing up on the surface, but Silva had heard tell of the government, or what passed as government to them. If a family were caught fighting with another, both were liable to be eradicated in the name of preserving the peace. It hardly stopped the infighting, but it meant that those who were predisposed to it were forced to work carefully to see their success met. 

“That is what my government says,” Hisoka chimed, laughing a little. “What the rest say depends on my mood.” His eyes cut to Silva, hard and shining like citrine. “And what does my blackbird say to you of me, since we are on this topic? I’m sure he has told you all kinds of cruel things to gain your pity.”

“I don’t pity Chrollo,” Silva said, setting his glass back down. “If you’re wondering if he’s bad mouthed you, he hasn’t.” It would have been better if Chrollo had. Maybe then Silva wouldn’t have brought him back here. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly his favorite person either right now.”

“And for good reason,” a smooth voice cut in. Silva didn’t startle, but it was a near thing. Hisoka’s gaze was focused somewhere over Silva’s shoulder, and Silva turned too to take in the one they had been talking so much about. 

Chrollo was dressed now in clothing that Silva had never seen him wear before, things probably more befitting of his beauty and status than the dark leather and worn linen he had worn up above in Silva’s company. Silva’s mouth went dry at the sight. If this had come calling for his head, maybe Silva could see the logic behind keeping Chrollo instead of killing him. 

“It’s lovely to see you join us, Chrollo,” Hisoka greeted, standing graciously to hold out the seat next to him. Chrollo moved with infinite grace, his slender arms distracting, bared as they were in the lace work top. The silvery…. was it really spidersilk? Silva supposed it must have been, given the proclivities of the Drow. It created a beautiful contrast to his skin, his flowing skirt exposing his thighs through the open panels on the sides. Silva let his eyes wander, hating that Hisoka did the same. Something like this felt like it should only be appreciated alone, intimately. Silva didn’t want to share any part of that with Hisoka. 

But Chrollo didn’t even look at Hisoka, and he sure as hell didn’t look at Silva. He simply snatched up the plate and a fork as he moved, bypassing the proffered seat entirely to sit further off. Hisoka frowned and Silva hid a smile. He wasn’t sitting by Silva, but at least he wasn’t sitting by Hisoka either. Wordlessly, Chrollo began to fill up his plate, eating quietly and ignoring the eyes on him. 

Hisoka cleared his throat, glancing at Silva for just a second before addressing Chrollo again. “We were just talking about you,” he said brightly. “I’m pleased to see our words summoned you like a blessing. I can’t begin to say how much you grace us both with your presence.” 

Silva stared at Hisoka blandly. What on earth was he going on about? Did he think pretty words alone were going to be enough to get Chrollo to forgive them? What an idiot. Chrollo wasn’t even pretending to act like he had heard, instead opting to stare at Silva suddenly with a gaze as intense as it was surprising.

“Your knife.” Chrollo’s words were clipped. Polite but distant.

Silva blinked. “My what?” he asked, his mind immediately jumping to the one in his boot. Did Chrollo want to stab Hisoka for his attempts at flattery? He was reaching for it already, delighted by the thought. 

Chrollo closed his eyes, sighed, and then opened them again. “Give me your knife. I can’t cut this meat,” he said, looking like every word he had to exchange pained him. 

Leaning back up, Silva flushed. “Oh,” he said, taking up the knife beside his own plate. “Yeah. Sure–”

“Pet, why don’t you use mine?” Hisoka quickly interjected, already standing up, knife in hand. “Or, better yet, I’ll cut it for you–”

Chrollo’s shoulders tensed and he didn’t bother looking away from Silva as he spoke. “If you don’t sit back down right now, Hisoka, I’m going to jab my fork in your eye.” His voice was as cold and effective as ice. Silva shivered and Hisoka froze in place, eyes wide as he stared at his lover taking the knife from Silva. 

Hisoka sat back down with a muffled thud, mouth a hard line and back stiff. “I hardly think the situation worthy of threats, pet,” he muttered, glaring at Silva for some reason. “Aren’t you mad at him too? Why am I the only one being spurned by you so viciously?”

“Well, I would say he’s got more reason to be angry at you, don’t you think?” Silva offered, a grin on his face as he helped himself to more of whatever it was he was eating. Knowing Drow, it was probably some horrifying cave creature, but with Chrollo there, his appetite had returned in full. “All I did was my job. You’re the over-obsessed lover who sent out hunters to retrieve what you thought was yours.”

Hisoka clasped the edge of the table so hard that the wood groaned quietly in protest. “I would say that creatures nearing the end of their pitifully short lives shouldn’t aspire to speed up the process by goading their betters,” Hisoka replied, his voice level in a way that got Chrollo’s attention. 

“I’m mad at you both,” Chrollo said bluntly, stabbing at his food with an annoyed air. “You should stop competing for a losing title.” 

Silva smirked. “Did you hear that? I think that’s your place in this race.”

Hisoka bristled. “Oh, no,” he said, gesturing towards Silva. “That honor is all yours. You are, after all, so painfully old. It would be cruel of me to deny you of your rightful title as the Loser of Losers when you’ve no chance to better yourself in this lifetime.”

Oh, that was hilarious coming from a creature twice Silva’s age. He readied himself to say as much, but was cut off before he could even open his mouth. Chrollo stood up, his chair screeching across the floor in disapproval. The air froze in place and Silva stared at Chrollo, Hisoka doing the same. 

“You’re both unbelievable,” he said, his hands resting on the tabletop, eyes frigid enough to freeze them both in place. “Absolutely unbelievable. Is this all a game to the two of you? Is my agency a joke to be laughed at?”

When he said it like that, Silva just felt like an ass. He chewed the inside of his cheek and met eyes with the fuming, beautiful Drow. “Of course not,” he said, balking a little when Chrollo turned the force of his glare solely on him. 

“That’s absolutely _rich_ coming from the man who trussed me up like a stuffed pig and dragged me back here against my will,” Chrollo hissed. “You’ve already shown how much you value my freedom, since you quite literally put a price on it.”

Hisoka let out a soft snicker and promptly earned Chrollo’s undivided attention. Silva relaxed a little when the focus shifted off of him and onto the other Drow. He half felt sorry for Hisoka for what he figured was about to come. 

“Don’t you dare laugh, Hisoka,” Chrollo said coldly, his gaze as frigid as an icy wind. “I’m so angry I could break something.” 

Silva had never seen Chrollo so angry before, and from the looks of it, neither had Hisoka. The dining hall was deathly silent, Chrollo glaring down at the plate in front of him. He looked as if he were half considering lobbing it across the room. Silva got ready to move in case he did. There was no telling which of them would be the target, but he supposed if there was one sure-fire way to test who he was most mad at, it would be that. 

Instead of acting on the anger he no doubt felt, Chrollo instead crumpled. His shoulders fell and his angry frown turned into an expression of pure sadness. “It doesn’t feel like I’m home like this,” he whispered, his hands clenching on the edge of the table, knuckles white. “You’ve locked me in a cage and expected me to say thank you for it.” He looked up, meeting Hisoka’s eyes. “We’ve been together for fifty years and you still don’t even know me.”

Silva’s eyes went wide when Chrollo grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him from his chair with a strength Silva hadn’t been expecting. “We’re leaving,” Chrollo told him, glaring back at Hisoka as he dragged Silva towards the door. “Don’t try to follow. I don’t want to see you if you’re going to act like this.”

Hisoka stood up to protest, but they were already halfway to the door. “Chrollo, come on!” Hisoka called out. He had the sense to stay put, at least, not moving to follow them. “At least stay through dinner!”

Chrollo shoved Silva towards the door, whirling around in a flare of silk and lace to glare daggers at his lover. “I’ll eat when and where I please, Hisoka,” he nearly snarled. “You’ve lost the right to share in my company.”

And Silva hadn’t? He didn’t try to ask, though, not when Chrollo turned back towards him. Silva had seen kinder looking dragons than the Drow right now. He let Chrollo snatch up his arm again and drag him through the heavy doors, not bothering to take a last backwards glance at Hisoka as they did so. 

The pace was quick and the mood smothering. “Where are we going?” Silva asked gently, wincing when Chrollo’s nails began to cut into his arm. Was it just a Drow quirk to walk so fast?

“To your room,” came the simple, barbed reply.

“Can I ask why?”

Chrollo snorted, turning a corner, the pace not letting up an inch. “Because nothing will sting him more than me willingly putting you before him,” he replied, smiling an unkind smile that seemed to waver, already on the verge of falling. “He’s… He’s too self-centered to think anything different.”

Silva let that sit in the air for a moment, nearly tripping over his feet as Chrollo dragged them down another hall. He was beginning to recognize the portraits now. “Are… Are you okay?” he forced himself to ask, wincing again when the nails cut deeper. 

“No,” Chrollo said flatly, ending the conversation there before he drew blood. 

Silva was glad Chrollo seemed to know his way around, but when they stopped in front of his door, Chrollo didn’t bother asking before he opened it and shoved Silva inside. Silva stumbled and caught himself before he fell, turning around to see Chrollo following him inside too. A thousand thoughts tore through Silva’s mind at what Chrollo could be planning. Was he going to kill Silva himself? 

The moment the door closed was the moment Chrollo’s haughty, imperious mood crashed around his feet. Chrollo leaned against the door and covered his face with his hands, sliding down to sit on the ground. Silva didn’t know what to do, his instincts telling him to comfort while Chrollo’s body language screamed to go away. 

“Chrollo,” Silva called out gently, approaching slowly because he had to try something. Even if it were a trap, which he was beginning to doubt more and more every second, Silva was honor bound at this point to do whatever he could to make amends. “Do you want to be alone?”

The Drow’s narrow shoulders hunched, his hands trembling in front of his face. “I _want_ none of this to have happened,” he answered after a moment of nothing, his voice shaking as much as his body. “I _want_ to wake up and still be on the surface with a man who wouldn’t sell me out and with a lover who had enough restraint to keep himself from dragging me back before I was ready.”

Silva grimaced, his guilt doubling. He hadn’t wanted things to go like this. He hadn’t wanted Chrollo to be so miserable. Inching closer to the Drow, Silva sank to his knees and reached out a hand, resting it on Chrollo’s shoulder. When it wasn’t shaken off, Silva moved closer. Chrollo didn’t protest when Silva pulled him into his arms. He didn’t protest Silva stroking through his hair or kissing his head, offering what comfort he could. 

“I’m sorry,” Silva said, feeling Chrollo tremble. “For what little it’s worth now, I’m sorry.”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?” Chrollo mumbled, holding Silva to him, refusing to let an inch of space between them. 

His skin was soft where the lace left off, and Silva stroked along his back, kissing his even softer hair again just because he could and Hisoka couldn’t. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this,” Silva said, meeting Chrollo’s eyes when the Drow deigned to glanced up at him, dark eyes liquid and as black as night. “I’m sorry for thinking that I knew best when it came to your happiness.”

“You don’t,” Chrollo whispered, lips trembling a bit. “No one knows best but me.”

“I know that now,” Silva hushed, moving a lock of Chrollo’s hair behind his delicate ear. He really was so pretty, wasn’t he? Soft lips, dark eyes, skin as smooth as the petals of a flower. Silva held back on the urge to kiss him, knowing now wasn’t the time. After all he had done to Chrollo, that time might not ever come again. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

Chrollo’s face crumpled, and for a moment, Silva feared him on the verge of tears. His small form fell heavily against Silva’s chest, and Silva lifted him easily, toppling them back onto the bed until Chrollo was laid out along his chest like a small, miserable kitten. “T-then why doesn’t Hisoka?” he stammered, hiding his face in Silva’s shirt. “Why doesn’t he understand what he’s done wrong? I would’ve come back. Why didn’t he just wait for me to come back?”

Because he was an idiot? Because he was selfish, possessive, jealous, controlling? A thousand answers flooded Silva’s mind but he held his tongue. He stroked Chrollo’s back and held him while he shivered, letting the Drow hide his face when the tears eventually began to fall. “It’s okay,” Silva soothed, knowing it was poor comfort to give. “He’s an asshole, but he does care about you, right? Maybe he just needs more time to realizes where he went wrong.” 

Chrollo managed a ragged laugh. Tear tracks lined his cheeks when he looked up, but he still smiled through it. “I never thought I’d hear you defending him,” he said, voice wavering as he hiccuped a little. Wiping his eyes, Chrollo looked around the room a little, slipping off Silva to settle in beside him, their legs still tangled together. “Can I…” he began, biting his lip even as he fought another sob. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Silva would be a bigger fool than he already was if he even thought of saying no. “Of course you can,” he said softly, moving to get up. This was a big manor. Silva could find some other place to sleep. He had seen some sofas in a sitting room a hall or two away. It would be a tight fit, but he had slept on worse. 

Just as he was about to slip off the bed, a small, slender hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place. “Where are you going?” Chrollo whispered, sitting up a little. 

“I was going to give you my room. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Chrollo was still upset with him. Silva wasn’t so much of an ass as to force the Drow to put up with his company when he wanted nothing to do with him. 

Chrollo averted his eyes, but his grip on Silva’s wrist was firm. “You don’t have to go,” he whispered softly after a moment of silence. He glanced back up at Silva, his trembling lips striving to look cocky. “Because, you know, nothing pisses Hisoka off more than us sharing a room.” Chrollo even managed a laugh. “It would be a good punishment for him. Once he realizes I’m not back in our room.”

Silva smiled warmly at Chrollo, letting him have his excuse. “It would be,” he said, tugging his hand free so that he could shuck off his shirt and toss it to the floor. He paused a moment later, looking back at Chrollo. “Or… Did you want me to keep it on?” There were boundaries now. New ones that Silva had no idea how to navigate. 

But Chrollo just rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little as he laid back down in the bed. “I don’t care, so long as you don’t expect anything to happen,” he mumbled, tucking himself under the fine sheets. “I’m mad at Hisoka, but not mad enough to go that far.”

“Fair enough.” Silva pulled back the sheets and slipped in himself, Chrollo’s body a smooth line against his shoulder. He turned onto his side out of habit, his arm tucking around Chrollo’s narrow waist loosely. Freezing again, he cleared his throat, the question on his lips but Chrollo already answering.

“It’s fine. Just know I’ll figure out your punishment soon too,” Chrollo whispered, followed by some short, musical noise that must have been the Drow language. The lights went out a moment later, and Chrollo settled in against Silva’s front, his small hands resting atop Silva’s arm. If Silva imagined hard enough, he could pretend Chrollo was holding him there. 

If only that were true. Silva held back on the sigh in his throat and instead settled for kissing the back of Chrollo’s neck. “Good night, brat,” he whispered, closing his eyes. The day had been long and treacherous and filled with aggravation and relief in equal measure. It was well past the time to rest and his body seemed to agree. 

And if he heard a _good night_ returned to him, he would chalk it up to pleasant dreams. To think otherwise would be pushing his luck. 


	10. Chapter Nine

Chrollo slept fitfully and awoke fitfully to the sight of Silva’s bare chest pressed against his cheek. For a moment, he almost wondered if it had all been a bad dream, if they weren’t just sleeping still in that tavern’s bed, the angry barkeep none the wiser to Chrollo’s presence. Chrollo closed his eyes and wished with all his might that it was true. 

Silva would never sell him out. Hisoka would never reward someone for dragging Chrollo back kicking and screaming. 

It almost worked for a moment, but then a draft rolled past, chilling Chrollo in a way that only the Underdark’s ever present cold could. He opened his eyes and sighed, looking into Silva’s sleeping face. The man held him close despite Chrollo’s warning the night before. It was hard to begrudge the contact now when it was cold, but Chrollo still wrinkled his nose and began the process of untangling himself from the hunter. It wouldn’t do to reward Silva for this kind of behavior. Not when Chrollo was still mad at him. 

Carefully, arduously, Chrollo extracted himself from Silva’s embrace, slipping out of the bed as quietly as he knew how. Silva didn’t stir, probably still worn out from the dinner yesterday. Chrollo ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes to take in the room around him. This was just a guest room, so he would need to go back to his own for clothes. There was no telling what Hisoka had done with his old ones, the ones he had worn on the surface, or his satchel. Silva’s room held only his own belongings, the bed, a wardrobe, and a few paintings that illustrated Hisoka’s unwelcoming mood towards Silva in general. 

Chrollo’s lips curved into a slight smile as he drew near the closest one, his fingers brushing the smooth frame. Hisoka really didn’t like Silva. The picture was unsettling, even to Chrollo, the portrait of some Drow with sharp, piercing eyes that seemed to follow the viewer’s every move. One of Hisoka’s ancestors, probably, but that didn’t negate the creepiness. If anything, it sent the message that even if Hisoka wasn’t watching Silva, someone was. 

Such theatrics. Chrollo really was home. 

He rolled his eyes and dropped his hand, heading to the door. The hallway was as chilly as it had been the day before, barren of all life and just as welcoming. Chrollo closed Silva’s door and began the long walk back to the room he and Hisoka shared, arms wrapped around his chest to keep out the cold. Hisoka was probably already awake and gone, off doing his duties as a noble. If Chrollo were lucky and quiet, there was a good chance he would be able to get in the room and out before Hisoka became wise to his location. 

The thought alone made Chrollo frown. He turned another corner of the seemingly endless halls, ears tuned to any sound that might mean someone was ahead. He didn’t want to see Hisoka at all, not after last night and certainly not after that horrible reunion. As much as he had missed his lover, Chrollo couldn’t forgive him after what he had done. Not until Hisoka realized how out of line he was and apologized properly for it. 

Sighing, Chrollo spotted the room he needed and made for it, opening the door slowly and peering inside only to find it empty. As quickly as he could, he darted inside and locked the door behind him, heading to the wardrobe where he kept his clothes. They were all outfits that Hisoka had bought for him–  beautiful, expensive things that highlighted his figure or his skin, his collarbones or his ankles. They felt like woven water as Chrollo skimmed his hand down the lengths of the hanging garments. Chrollo closed his eyes with a frown.  

What he and Hisoka had shared had always been more understood than outlined. They had never needed to discuss boundaries or rules. There was no need when Chrollo was comfortable with anything Hisoka wanted to give him. Pulling one of the outfits from the wardrobe, Chrollo set to stripping, wondering when things had gotten so out of sync. Once upon a time, they had understood each other implicitly. Now, Chrollo would be lucky to make Hisoka understand why he had done what he had done. 

“It never used to be so hard,” he muttered under his breath, tossing his worn clothes to the floor, leaving them for someone else to deal with. Scrubbing at his eyes, he snatched up the new outfit, tying the strap behind his neck clumsily as he went. Hisoka used to do it for him, but Chrollo didn’t need him. He pulled on the leggings next and closed the wardrobe with a slam, marching to the door. He unlocked it and slammed the door behind him too for good measure, making off down the hall for…. somewhere. 

Where was he even going? Chrollo slowed for a moment, but then forced himself to keep moving. Back to Silva’s room? Silva wasn’t in much better standing than Hisoka, and if Chrollo lingered around with him, Silva would no doubt try to suck up to him in hopes of making amends. Back to the master bedroom? Chrollo held back a grimace. It would just be a matter of time before he ran into Hisoka there, and there was no way Chrollo wanted to put himself near a bed while Hisoka was in the vicinity. 

His cheeks warmed at the thought. Hisoka was nothing if not convincing, and angry as Chrollo still was, he had missed Hisoka’s unique brand of touch. But, no; no, Chrollo wouldn’t tempt fate by making it easier on his lover. He looked to the left and then to the right, puzzling over his options just as an idea took root. If Hisoka were working, then he would be off in his study. The library was always empty this time of day. Empty most times, in truth, since Hisoka mainly kept it as a gift to Chrollo anyway. The added bonus of Silva not knowing where it was clinched it as the obvious choice. 

Decision made, Chrollo turned left and moved as quickly as he could down the hall, past the judgemental eyes of the portraits along the walls and around the various statues and art pieces Hisoka liked to clutter the place with. The library took up a sizable portion of the manor’s third floor, dominating an entire wing all on its own. The heavy oak doors opened with a strong push and Chrollo slipped inside, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent of paper, ink, and dust that always seemed to linger in the air despite regular cleanings. The grime never bothered Chrollo. If anything, it was nice to be in a place that wasn’t quite pristine and perfect. Relatable, in a way.

Looking around the large, cavernous room told him that Hisoka hadn’t changed much during Chrollo’s absence. The shelves towered high above his head, still sitting where Chrollo had left them. There was an ever-present fire in the fireplace, and a thick layer of dust along the chairs nearest to it. Something tugged in Chrollo’s chest at the sight, but he didn’t linger on the thought of why the sight of it upset him. It wasn’t as if Hisoka had spared all that much time to sitting and reading with him anyway. Too busy, Hisoka would say. Instigating the ruling class was a full time occupation. 

The thoughts made Chrollo frown and hold himself tighter. Ignoring the fireplace, he looked instead to the shelves. They were as they had always been, sculpted from obsidian and polished to a deadly shine. In the light of the fire, they glistened like the darkest of ink. Reaching out a hand, Chrollo trailed his fingers along the dark surface, taking in the books nearest to him. Hisoka had never paid any mind to a cataloguing system, but Chrollo knew them all by heart.

His fingers trailed over the titles. _In the Blackest Pit, In Mortal Fields, The Tale of Visitric, Under the Azure Sky_. There was no helping the sigh that came. They were all memoirs and tales of adventure, of travel and intrigue. Chrollo had read them all at one time or another, the only form of escape he had from the oppressive darkness he called home. He pulled one from the shelf and stroked the cover gently. For a moment, he had seen and felt what the books had promised. It was just a shame that his story had to end so abruptly. 

Pushing the book back into its spot, Chrollo moved towards the far wall out of habit, sitting down on the pillowed window sill just as he would always do on days where he felt suffocated. The glass was cold but the cushions were warm, and when he leaned his forehead against the window, he saw that not much had changed outside either since he had left. He had only been gone a few months, which in their world was as good as the blink of an eye. Why had he expected things to look different now? Maybe the surface really had spoiled him. 

The city twinkled back at him grimly, seeming to agree. Hisoka was far from the shady, disgusting places where Chrollo had spent most of his childhood, but that didn’t mean much in the Underdark. Practically every burrow held its own measure of danger, just in different forms. The streets were glossy black here, well-maintained and redolent of the wealth residing along its length. Arching posts hung overhead, providing light in the form of shapeless, white balls of undulating magic. What little plant life there was was painstakingly maintained to the point of artificiality, cultivated to appear as something more fetching than just undergrowth planted along the street in measured intervals. 

His eye followed the line of the street until he grew bored of it, and then he turned his sights further away, where he finally noticed a spot of different among the sea of sameness. Across the way, Chrollo could see the facade of another building. Unlike before, its windows were now boarded up, the sharp, wicked fence around the property broken and fractured. 

Chrollo hummed, only vaguely wondering what might have happened. It wasn’t an odd thing to see down here, and he assumed it had to do with politics. Hisoka might have even been responsible for the demise of the neighboring family, though he would never be so brash as to publicize the fact. He would save that for later, for when he had Chrollo in his bed or on his lap, close enough to whisper of his deeds proudly. No doubt the family that had once occupied the manor was now dead or exiled, perhaps even married off to save face and preserve what little standing they had left. At any rate, their demise presented something new to look at, which Chrollo thought was nice. 

He still sighed. He couldn’t help but stare at the other building ruefully, wishing he could go over and explore it, perhaps check for things that might have been missed in the looting. There were always so many secret compartments and hidden mechanisms lurking behind walls and within the floorboards. Jewels, deeds, money… There was no end to the possibilities, but Chrollo knew that Hisoka would never allow it. 

On a whim, he tugged at the window’s frame. A short, fleeting zap stung his fingertips, informing him that yes, Hisoka had indeed updated his security spellwork. There would be no sneaking in or out of the manor this time. 

Kneading at his eyes, Chrollo brought his legs up onto the window sill as well, wrapping his arms around them as he stared forlornly out the window. It wasn’t that surprising. Hisoka would have reinforced them after Chrollo’s escape. It had taken years of waiting for the charms to wear down enough to let Chrollo slip away, and there was no way Hisoka would let the same thing happen a second time. If Chrollo wanted to go outside, Hisoka would have to be the one to let him out.

He nearly scoffed at the thought. The only way that would happen would be if Hisoka accompanied him. Before, Chrollo had been able to come and go as he pleased so long as he gave notice and told Hisoka where he was going. Chrollo hadn’t left much in those early days, too content with the wealth around him, with the gifts and pleasure and attention as it was heaped upon him. Now he doubted that he would ever see that level of freedom again. 

What a mess it all was. The situation, his relationship, his… whatever it was he shared with Silva. The greatest casualty of all had to be Chrollo’s head. His thoughts were spinning and racing like a dervish, longing for a solution to the problems before him. Perhaps time would bring answers, but for now, Chrollo knew he just needed space enough to think. 

The sound of the door opening told him quite tersely that space was one thing he would not be getting any time soon. Shoulders stiff, lip between his teeth, Chrollo ignored the sound of Hisoka entering, instead focusing all of his attention on the view outside the window. 

“Good afternoon, my blackbird,” Hisoka greeted, his voice soft and musical in the still air of the library. For a moment, Chrollo was transported back to before, when Hisoka would come upon him in here and carry him off to bed. “I hope you slept well,” he added, when Chrollo said nothing, “wherever it was you ended up sleeping.”

Chrollo heard it for the question it was. He just ignored it entirely. If he ignored him long enough, perhaps Hisoka would take the hint and leave him be. Just because the man knew where Chrollo liked to sit didn’t mean he needed to seek him out in hopes of getting Chrollo to talk to him. It wouldn’t work.

Hisoka’s frown was practically audible behind him. The Drow began to pace, his clothing whispering softly as he moved. Out of the corner of his eye, Chrollo saw him pick up a book from a shelf, flip through it, and then put it back. If Chrollo wasn’t mistaken, it was the same book he himself had looked at. “I missed you last night,” Hisoka offered next, his eyes heavy on Chrollo’s shoulders. “After you left, you know. Meals never taste as good when you’re not there sharing them with me.”

Lips curling into a frown, Chrollo held his legs tighter. That almost sounded sincere. It would be more sincere if followed by Hisoka excusing himself for his pigheadedness and apologizing for all he had done wrong, but Chrollo knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not anytime soon, at any rate. 

“You don’t feel like talking to me now either, do you?” Hisoka sighed. His pacing resumed, closer this time, his eyes raking over Chrollo’s figure no matter how tightly he held himself. The glass was shiny, and when Hisoka approached, Chrollo could see him in the reflection. He looked mournful as he took Chrollo in. “Your hair is longer. I guess you really have been away for awhile.” Giving a mirthless chuckle, Chrollo watched him shake his head a little. “It looks so much like it did when we first met. So messy and unkempt. I forgot how much I liked the look on you.”

Chrollo frowned and told himself to cut his hair at the soonest opportunity. He stopped looking at Hisoka’s reflection. He had humored him enough already. 

“You aren’t wearing your jewelry,” he observed next, and if Chrollo cared to look harder he was sure he would find confusion on Hisoka’s face. “Where is your collar? Your sandals? I see you kept the earrings, but it’s odd to see you without the rest too.” 

The silence dragged on for a minute, maybe longer, before Chrollo let out a breath, realizing that Hisoka wasn’t going to leave without being acknowledged. “Perhaps I didn’t see the need to wear them,” Chrollo said dismissively, eyes firmly rooted on the window. He wondered what Hisoka would say if he learned that the vast majority of Chrollo’s gems and baubles were now occupying various pawn shops. 

Hisoka hummed pensively, moving around the room smoothly for want of something to do. “Could it be because I bought you those things?” he pondered aloud. “The earrings were the first gift I ever gave you, but the rest are still sentimental items, I would think. Could you really be so angry with me?”

Chrollo didn’t answer. He had nothing to say to Hisoka. Nothing at all. 

“Or could it be,” Hisoka went on, not hampered in the slightest by an unwilling conversational partner, “that you no longer have them?”

Despite his best efforts, Chrollo stiffened. His jaw went tight and he kept his eyes on the outside world. “What makes you think that?” he asked as flatly as he could, hating that he had to encourage Hisoka with conversation just to learn what he knew. 

Hisoka laughed a little. “Oh, a few reasons. Would you care to hear them? I suppose you do, since you bothered answering me.” He sighed wistfully. “I know where you keep them, firstly, and I saw they were missing soon after I realized you were gone. They haven’t been put back, and I doubt you would keep them on you but not wear them. At first I wondered if you weren’t just hiding them in that human’s room, but the staff I had in there reported that there was no sign of your usual adornments within his belongings.”

Chrollo opened his mouth to complain about the invasion of privacy, but Hisoka was still talking. “Secondly, you’ve gone back to wearing your usual clothes. I know what you like to wear with what. You never wear a low collar without something around your neck, and if you choose to go barefoot, you always wear your sandals. You are a creature of habit, my blackbird, no matter how much you may think otherwise. I know you far better than you give me credit for.” He paced a little behind Chrollo, the soft sounds of his spidersilk cloak whispering as he moved. “But then again, I suppose the most damning piece of evidence would be this.”

A familiar chiming cut through the air and Chrollo turned woodenly, only to see Hisoka cradling  the silver and ruby bracelet between his fingers. The very same that Chrollo had almost sold a few weeks ago to some foul-breathed pawn shop owner but kept because sentimentality. Hisoka was smiling softly at it, and Chrollo watched him glance up, lifting another piece from his pocket. The gems glistened brightly in the room, mocking him for his weakness.

It only grew worse when Hisoka dipped back into his pocket, this time bringing out a jeweled lace collar, one that Chrollo had ended up selling to pay for Silva’s exorbitant fees. So, Hisoka knew. He knew that Chrollo had sold them, and he knew that he had kept the oldest pieces, too attached to see them in the hands of another. 

“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, it won’t work,” Chrollo said, finally meeting Hisoka’s eyes. 

“I’m not.” Hisoka crossed his arms, staring evenly at Chrollo. His fingers tapped against his silk-covered arms, almost as if he were staring at an unsolvable problem. “Did you not like them? The gifts, I mean.”

Why did he care so much? “They were fine,” Chrollo answered. “I just needed money and I wasn’t about to pawn things that weren’t mine.” He looked back down to the streets below, taking in the grimy streets, the dark that loomed just out beyond the ever-present glow of the city. “I didn’t think you’d notice or care much one way or another. You give me so much already.” 

“I don’t think I cared much until I was informed that you kept the earrings and bracelet. Protected them viciously, they said. It may have been decades ago, but I still remember giving you these as the very first tokens of my claim.”

Hisoka paused for a moment, sighing wistfully. “They said you killed half a dozen bandits to hold on to them, and in all honesty, it just made me want you back even more, hearing that.” He gave a soft chuckle. “Do you want these back, pet? They’re rightly yours, your personal attachment to them notwithstanding.” 

Chrollo just shook his head. “I won’t wear them while I’m angry with you,” he said dully, turning away again. “I know how much you like me wearing them. Consider it another punishment for you. Another of your own making.”

The jewelry made a sad sound as it was tucked away, one that nearly rivaled Hisoka’s sigh. “I don’t think you’ve ever been this cruel to me before,” he remarked. “Even when I first found you. Don’t you remember?” Hisoka murmured, his voice lilting and smooth in the quiet of the room. “You came to me so eagerly compared to this. A half-starved creature with no master, yearning for a kind touch; though you hardly knew yourself what you wanted.”

“And instead I found you,” Chrollo said petulantly, curling up tighter in his small windowsill. He kept his eyes on the city below even though there was nothing to see. Nothing that held interest at any rate. It had been like that before, back when Chrollo had lived on the streets, stealing and fighting to survive. His curiosity had taken him here, into Hisoka’s palace, and then once that had lost its luster, it had taken him above. 

Hisoka sighed. Chrollo ignored him. Or tried to, up until the man grew close enough to touch, the warmth of his body a physical presence against Chrollo’s spine. “Don’t sound so bitter, pet,” Hisoka pleaded, hovering his hand over Chrollo’s hair but hesitating to touch. Smart of him, Chrollo thought. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Hisoka tried something, but it seemed Hisoka wasn’t quite sure if he were ready to find out either. “You know I only wanted what’s best–”

“If the words _what’s best for you_ come out of your mouth,” Chrollo spat, turning to glare at his lover, “I will make you regret bringing me back into your home.”

Hisoka flinched, his eyes wide. His hand fell back to his side. “ _My_ home?” he repeated, a look of utter confusion passing over him. “Since when has it just been _my_ home? Chrollo, this is your home too. It’s been your home for–”

He couldn’t listen to this. Chrollo stood up and Hisoka backed away, letting him move away from his window sill. Hisoka rallied quickly though, following after him incessantly. “It’s been your home for years, Chrollo,” he continued, throwing a hand towards the window he had just abandoned. “Ever since you came through that window. You don’t belong above. You belong here, where you’re treasured. Not in the arms of some _human_ you stumbled upon, and most certainly not wandering around aimlessly amongst people who would see you dead in a heartbeat.”

“I… I never thought I belonged up there,” Chrollo said quietly, turning just enough to glance up at Hisoka. His lover was flushed and frustrated, but the fact that he was trying to argue at all was something surprising in itself. Hisoka thought himself above such things, too prideful to risk losing an argument to bother starting one in the first place. “You don’t understand anything. You certainly don’t understand that I’m in no mood to talk to you right now.”

“It’s been days since you came back,” Hisoka said pointedly, and Chrollo didn’t bother to correct him on the details of his return. It wouldn’t do any good when Hisoka still thought himself in the right. “You dodge my every move. You refuse even to eat with me, let alone share our bed. I fear your mood to talk is as absent as my patience to wait for its return.”

“Why don’t you just hire a bounty hunter then?” Chrollo sniped, knowing it was childish. “Maybe then it would bring it back for you?”

Hisoka covered his face with his hand, sighing deeply. Chrollo turned back around, fuming. Why hadn’t Chrollo thought about this eventuality? He should have prepared himself for a confrontation, or at least thought of better ways to deny Hisoka than just childish quips and shouting. He clenched the silk of his mantle tightly, his knuckles going white. Hisoka didn’t even understand what he had done wrong. How were they going to have a mature discussion when Hisoka failed to even pick up on that much?

His thoughts were cut short, severed like strings hewn with a swiping blade when Hisoka embraced him from behind, his approach as silent as the grave and just as insidious. Chrollo didn’t know what to do. He shook and stared at the floor, Hisoka’s familiar scent washing over him in a heady wave. 

“What do I have to do to have your forgiveness?” Hisoka asked, nuzzling Chrollo’s hair, his hands squeezing his hips. “It’s utter agony having you mad at me, Chrollo. Not when I just wanted you back in my arms.” 

“How can I forgive you of anything when you don’t even understand what you’ve done?” he replied, hating how he leaned into his lover’s warmth. It wasn’t like being embraced by Silva, or anyone else for that matter. Silva was blunt, uncomplicated. He said what he meant and he did what he wanted because it was what he wanted to do; nothing more, nothing less. Hisoka though. Hisoka was a thousand sharp angles wrapped in silk; one wrong move would have Chrollo cut to pieces. Or, it would leave him cold and alone. At this point, he wasn’t sure which one was a better option. 

“Oh, it’s easy, my blackbird,” Hisoka told him, kissing lightly at the tip of Chrollo’s ear. “But let’s not worry about that now. Heavy topics can wait, can’t they? Why don’t we get reacquainted? It’s been so long, after all.”

Hisoka’s teeth were the worst kind of distraction. They conjured memories of late nights and heated touch, of unbearable ecstasy and dizzying pain. An embrace was never just an embrace. It was a chance to fall. A chance to lose entirely should he make the wrong decision. Should he be weak. 

Chrollo wasn’t weak. He shrugged off Hisoka’s arms and stepped away, turning to look his lover in the eye. His cheeks were flushed but he forced himself to ignore it. It and Hisoka’s hungry, eternal lust both. 

“You really think you can have me again, don’t you?” he asked, holding himself as he stared at Hisoka. “You really don’t think you’ve done something wrong.”

“I think I’ve done something to make you upset,” Hisoka corrected, his expression falling at the rejection. “You’ve been upset before and you still let me touch you. It’s just a little fight, Chrollo. We’ve been apart for ages, so why won’t you let me make it up to you?”

“In the only way you know how?” Chrollo scoffed, his hands squeezing tight into fists. He could still feel Hisoka’s warmth on his skin, his teeth against his ear. He wanted it, but if he let Hisoka get his way, nothing would change. Nothing would be learned. “If you want me, you have to do better than that, Hisoka.”

Hisoka took a step closer, his eyes burning. “What do I have to do then?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of him. “What do I have to do to earn your touch? You don’t want gifts, you don’t want my attention. So what can I give you to make you want me again?”

“I want to go back to the surface–”

“Anything but that,” Hisoka interrupted, stopping him before he could finish. “I won’t let you go where I can’t follow, Chrollo. You belong here. Not up there.”

Chrollo bared his teeth, dropping his hands to his sides. Anything but that? Fine. “I want you to get on your knees,” he said in a silky, pervasive tone. This time, Chrollo came to Hisoka, looking up at him with barely an inch between them. “I want you to get on your knees, throw away your pride, and beg me to share your bed again.”

Hisoka looked stricken. His nostrils flared and he stiffened. “Excuse me, pet?” 

“You heard me,” Chrollo whispered, licking at his lips and smiling when Hisoka leaned closer to him, no doubt wanting to taste. “If you want me, you have to work for it. Prove to me that you really are willing to do anything to have me back where I belong.”

“I’m inclined to think you’d look better on your knees,” Hisoka said, his lips barely an inch from Chrollo’s. His hands were hovering at Chrollo’s arms, the warmth bleeding through the air like temptation. “Are you really so stubborn?”

Chrollo smiled, pulling back just as Hisoka went in for a kiss. “I think I am,” he said, taking a step back, looking over his shoulder at Hisoka with his eyes half-mast. He had forgotten how good it felt, this back and forth between them. Hisoka had never struggled to keep up with him. That at least hadn’t faded with the distance. “Get to kneeling, Hisoka, else I’ll go spend my evening elsewhere. In more accommodating company.”

It was a heady thing, watching the want and pride war it out in Hisoka’s eyes. His jaw was tight and his shoulders stiff, and he parted his lips as if he wanted to argue, only to think better of it. Chrollo rolled his eyes and looked at his nails, letting out a low sigh. “I suppose Silva will have to satisfy me tonight,” Chrollo remarked, taking a step towards the door. “A shame. I’ve nearly forgotten the feeling of your embrace.”

“Stop.” 

Chrollo paused, hand posed on the ornate door handle. He turned and raised a brow, watching Hisoka simmer. “Yes?” Was he really going to do it?

“You really are cruel to me,” Hisoka muttered, averting his eyes as he sank to his knees. “Utterly cruel. I’d kill that human in his sleep if I thought you wouldn’t resent me even more for it.”

“That… doesn’t sound like an apology,” Chrollo said slowly, his hand slipping from the door. His heart was pounding, cheeks flushed at the sight of his prideful lover on his knees. Had Hisoka ever been so thoroughly knocked down before? It must be hellish for him, feeling so weak. 

Hisoka blinked slowly, seething beneath it all. Chrollo took a step towards him, waiting. “You…” Hisoka looked at the wall. “You vex me in so many ways. Please come back to my bed. To _our_ bed. I can’t bear another night of knowing you’re back but still so far from me.” He looked back, meeting Chrollo’s eyes ruefully. “There. Will you accept me now that I’ve made a fool of myself?”

“If you think that is what constitutes begging for my forgiveness, I fear you’ll never hold me in your arms again,” Chrollo delivered coolly. 

“Well, excuse me if I’m not familiar with the concept of begging,” Hisoka snapped. “I tend to leave that to you, so unless you’d care to give me a reminder of what it looks like–”

Chrollo rolled his eyes and moved back towards the door. Why had he even bothered? Hisoka was as sincere as a beast and just as pushy. It had been a mistake to think he might apologize, and an even bigger one to think that maybe, just maybe, Hisoka cared enough about him to show some modicum of weakness. 

He was just about to step out into the hall when Hisoka leapt to his feet and grabbed him from behind, dragging him into his arms before Chrollo could manage leaving. He struggled and snarled, glaring at Hisoka, but Hisoka was big, and he was strong, and when it came to a competition of strength, Hisoka would always win. 

“Get off of me!” Chrollo hissed, wriggling and clawing at Hisoka’s arm fixed around his chest. Hisoka was so strong that he felt his feet leave the floor, his lover hefting him easily to carry him away from the door. “Put me down!”

“No,” Hisoka grunted, carrying him back over to the window sill, plopping him down onto the pillowed edge. He boxed Chrollo in with his arms before Chrollo could dart away, holding him to the seat as he knelt again between Chrollo’s thighs. “I won’t let you go. Not until you forgive me.”

“This is the exact _opposite_ of how you should be seeking it,” Chrollo spat, shoving at Hisoka’s shoulders. Hisoka’s hands rose up to grab his wrists, stopping him from scratching like he wanted to. The cold glass of the window met his shoulders, his lover rising up to follow him back. “Hisoka, _stop_ ,” he pleaded, closing his eyes. “Why don’t you understand? It’s you acting like this that makes me run away!”

The hands around his wrists let go suddenly. Chrollo opened an eye, breathing heavily as Hisoka edged away, his head cocked and eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” he asked, brow furrowed. “You’ve never complained before about how I treated you.”

Chrollo took the chance while he had it, planting his bare foot on Hisoka’s chest and shoving him back enough to let him stand up. He did it fast so Hisoka couldn’t grab his ankle. “If you’re so blind that you can’t even see what’s wrong with your behavior,” Chrollo recited, moving past him and for the door again, “then there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

“Where are you going?” Hisoka was scrambling to his feet, the sound of his fumbling loud in the quiet of the soon-to-be-empty room. 

“Back to Silva’s room,” Chrollo shot, already halfway out the door. He spared Hisoka only a single glance. One last look to show him just how badly he had erred in this nonsensical apology attempt. “Don’t you even think of following me.” His lover looked despondent. Lost. 

_ Good _ , Chrollo thought, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t care one bit. If he thought it enough, it would probably become true. The sick feeling in his stomach couldn’t last forever. 

Hisoka was an idiot. An utter idiot. It wasn’t hard to see what Chrollo wanted from him. It wasn’t hard to see why he was upset, yet here he was, having to explain it to Hisoka like a mother to a child. Chrollo kicked at the plush carpet, scowling at the ostentatious decorations along the walls of the hall. He remembered a time when he had been dazzled by the wealth Hisoka boasted in his home and on his person. He remembered being so awestruck, so delighted by every bauble he was given. But now, Chrollo could hardly stomach the sight. 

Was it too much to ask for, to be able to wander? Hisoka delighted in calling him a bird, but this place was a gilded cage whose bars loomed closer, growing tighter every day. 

When Chrollo entered Silva’s room, he didn’t let the human speak. He just threw himself into the bed and buried his face in Silva’s chest, wishing the covers would swallow him whole. 

“I’m beginning to wonder if you even have your own room,” Silva grunted, tossing aside the daggers he had been sharpening for want of something to do. 

“I don’t,” Chrollo muttered, comforting himself with Silva’s familiar scent. It was entirely unlike Hisoka’s, woodsy and smokey like the fires they would light in the forest up above. If Chrollo could just lose himself in the scent, maybe it would transport him back there, to a place where the world was quiet and where Hisoka couldn’t get to him. “Do you want me to go?”

“Do you want _me_ to go?” Silva asked him right back, smoothing his hand down Chrollo’s spine. “I can go find somewhere else to be if you just want a bed to sleep in that doesn’t have him in it.” 

Chrollo smiled against the man’s shirt, lifting his head to meet Silva’s eyes. “How chivalrous of you. Are you that jealous of him?” He stroked down Silva’s chest, biting his lip a little. “You don’t have to leave. I just wanted some space. He won’t come in here so I can avoid him in peace.”

Silva’s big hand carded through his hair, so gentle despite the size. “What happened?” he asked, his senses too good to fool. “Did you get into an argument?” 

“What do you think?” Chrollo sighed, burying his face in Silva’s shirt. “He’s not understanding me. He doesn’t even seem like he’s trying to. It’s like he’s so focused on having me back in his arms that he can’t see that what he did was wrong.” 

It wasn’t that complicated, was it? Was it really so hard to see why Chrollo was upset? Silva hushed him and petted him, but it didn’t do much to answer Chrollo’s questions, or assuage his worries. 

“I just…” Chrollo began, Silva’s hand stalling for a moment in his hair. “I just wanted to travel. I wanted to see things. Experience things. I can’t be happy trapped in a place like this. I would have come back if he had just waited.” Pausing, Chrollo looked up at Silva. “Is that so hard to understand?”

“I don’t think it is,” he said carefully. “Have you thought about… leaving?”

Chrollo snorted, burying his face deeper. “That’s what got me into this mess, Silva,” he said, his voice muffled. What good would leaving do again? Hisoka hadn’t been wrong in saying that the surface was no place for him. The rest of the Underdark was no better either. “I’ve got nowhere to go, no one to rely on, and no prospects.” And for as much as he still wanted to leave, Hisoka was… he was still Chrollo’s lover. Chrollo couldn’t just forget about him, and even if he could, he didn’t want to. Being with Hisoka made him happy. They were good together, aside from this one, monumental thing. 

Silva shifted beneath him, uncharacteristically nervous. “That’s… not necessarily true,” he said quietly, his hand stroking comforting shapes along Chrollo’s spine.

Chrollo frowned, scooting higher on his chest to meet his avoidant eye. “What do you mean?” he asked, cocking his head. “You know better than anyone how limited my options are.”

Silva grumbled and pushed Chrollo’s face back down. “I’m just saying you aren’t as alone on the surface as you think,” he muttered. “I mean, if you weren’t still mad at me. I’m not as young as I used to be–”

“I’ll say,” Chrollo cut in, earning himself another scowl. “You’re ancient.”

“Says the brat twice my age,” Silva snapped. “You know what? Nevermind. Pretend I said nothing. You're alone on the surface. Carry on with your moping.”

“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” Chrollo groused, snatching up Silva’s hand and resting it on his cheek. “Come on, tell me what you were going to say. You’re getting old, so…?”

“So,” Silva bristled, his voice rough but his touch soft as he stroked his thumb along Chrollo’s cheekbone, “I was thinking I might need some help with my work. Collecting bounties is all well and good, but if I had a partner, I could be doing a lot more…”

A myriad of feelings filled Chrollo at the word _partner._ Fear. Distrust. Anger. Hope. He averted his eyes and bit his lip, wondering how he was supposed to feel. “The last time you said that,” he murmured, letting Silva pull his attention back onto him, “you stabbed me with a sleeping draught.”

“We all do stupid things.” Silva frowned, looking decidedly uncomfortable. 

“You mean _you_ do stupid things,” Chrollo amended coolly. “I just sleep with stupid men.”

Silva let out a mirthless laugh. “You really do,” he said, sighing as he relaxed into the pillows. “But the offer is there. I’m as sincere as I can be. You don’t have to trust me. I’ll gladly work to earn it if that’s what it takes to win you over.”

Chrollo didn’t know what to say. The idea wasn’t unpleasant. It wasn’t unpleasant at all. Looking up at Silva, Chrollo felt his cheeks warm. Sculpted face, piercing blue eyes, and a mouth as cruel as it was kind. So different from Hisoka. Maybe that was a good thing. 

Clearing his throat, Chrollo let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Partner?” he murmured nonchalantly, something like hope flooding his chest. He kept his eyes low, trying not to look as excited as he felt. “You really think of us as that?”

Silva shrugged, embarrassed by his own admittance. “We work well together,” he said, brushing a lock of Chrollo’s hair behind his ear. “You’re a brat, but I had fun with you. So, yeah,” he went, meeting Chrollo’s eye. “If you were to come back above with me, I envisioned us as partners. Real ones. Share the map ones.”

Chrollo didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to feel besides elated that Silva had enjoyed his company so much. Leaning up, he kissed the hunter chastely, stomach aflutter at the thought of them returning to normality up above. There were a thousand things standing between them and that dream, but Chrollo didn’t want to think of them. They could wait for later. 

“You aren’t off the hook,” Chrollo whispered, leaning in for another kiss. 

Silva’s hands were gentle on his waist, doing nothing but resting there, letting Chrollo lead. “I know,” he said, looking into Chrollo’s eyes. “But I’d be a poor partner if I didn’t do what I could to make you feel better now. If you’d have me.”

Chrollo smiled against Silva’s lips, losing himself in the tender embrace. For the moment, for the night, for just a measure of peace that he couldn’t find anywhere else. Reality existed just outside the door, and eventually something would have to give. but for now, Chrollo would focus on this. 

Just this.


	11. Chapter Ten

Chrollo had to wonder if it were worth it to give in to Hisoka first just to break the monotony that had become his life. 

The monotony came upon him slowly but surely, and it came in the guise of a pattern that even Chrollo could feel was stifling. Wake up, bathe, wake up Silva, goad him into bringing him food, whittle away the hours by reading or sleeping or talking, and then fall into bed to repeat the whole cycle over again the next day. 

By the fourth day of nothing new, Chrollo felt ready to rip his hair out. 

By the fifth, he was readying himself to be even more drastic. Thankfully, Silva was right beside him through it all, still hard up about not being paid but taking it with as much grace as he could with Chrollo in the room. The hunter was as supportive as he could be, given the circumstances, but even that was beginning to grate on Chrollo’s nerves. Silva could be as apologetic as he pleased, but it didn’t solve Chrollo’s problems. If anything, it just reminded him of how he was avoiding them. 

“You’re in peril again,” Chrollo sighed, his tone a little brisker than it needed to be given the game they were playing. Clearing his throat, he tried again, this time with a bit of a smile. “Maybe I need to explain the rules again to you. You don’t seem to be very good at this game.”

“Give me a break,” Silva grunted, staring at the piece in his hand with a glare. “I’m still picking it up. I’ll beat you this time.”

Chrollo rolled his eyes. Again? They had already played a dozen games. “If you really want to lose so badly, who am I to deny you?” he teased, setting the board back up dutifully. “I suppose it’s not like I’ve anything better to do with my time than trounce you at a children’s game.”

“I don’t know, it seems like a big manor,” Silva shrugged, setting down the piece he had in his hand in the wrong spot. “I’m sure there are better things you could be doing than hiding out here with me.”

With a tight smile, Chrollo moved the piece to where it belonged, snorting a little at Silva’s irritated expression. “This is pretty much the only place I can be where I won’t get ambushed again,” he said ruefully, gesturing towards Silva to make the first move. It was a rookie move, the same one Silva had led with all the other games, but Chrollo supposed confidence was tantamount to foolishness when it came to trying again. “That leaves my options pretty slim.”

“Well,” Silva led, avoiding his eye as he spoke. “Maybe you should just get it over with.”

Chrollo’s piece clacked against the board a little harder than necessary. “How do you mean?” he said tightly, dispatching Silva’s knight-errant with brutal efficiency. 

“I _mean_ ,” Silva moved his next piece, this time a little less foolishly, “that it might be better to just talk to him and get it over with instead of hiding away for the rest of your life. I can tell you miss him, Chrollo.” Silva’s eyes were steady when he looked at Chrollo, even though his voice was bitter. “You’ve missed him since you ran to the surface. Ass though he may be, I know you want to see him still.”

Chrollo bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood. He stared at the board and took his move blindly, avoiding Silva’s knowing eye. “You don’t know anything,” he muttered, crossing his arms. It was chilly in here, the fire not doing nearly enough to keep him warm. Silva was wrapped in his mantle even, but Chrollo only had his sheer clothes. “Hurry up and make your move. We’ll play something different after this.”

Silva pursed his lips but said nothing, knowing well enough how Chrollo felt. He took his chancellor in hand and carefully judged the available spaces around him, moving her to one for a moment, before moving her to another. Indecision tensed the man’s shoulders, his jaw tight as he studied the board. His seriousness was nearly enough to make Chrollo laugh. It wouldn’t matter where he moved. Chrollo already had him where he wanted him, no matter what choice he made. 

They both startled when the door opened just seconds after Silva damned himself thoroughly. One look at Silva’s face was enough to tell Chrollo who it was, even without turning to look. Not that Chrollo really needed to look. None of the staff would dare to enter without knocking. 

“What do you want, Hisoka?” Chrollo asked with a sigh, keeping his eyes on the game board and the move he still needed to make. So, even this safe haven had its limits. “I’m a little busy right now.”

Hisoka, en lieu of asking for permission, just walked in and stood at Chrollo’s shoulder. “The same thing I’ve wanted for days now, my blackbird,” he said quietly, looking down at the game board. “Just a chance to speak to you.”

“You’re speaking to me now,” Chrollo replied offhandedly, making his move and watching Silva jump to make his own even though it was pretty obvious that the human wasn’t paying attention to the game any longer. He moved his piece sloppily, opening up his defenses once again for Chrollo’s spy. He stared at Chrollo with a raised brow, his words from before still hanging heavily in the air. 

“Please?” Hisoka pleaded, and that gave Chrollo pause. His hand froze midway from moving his spy in, and when he did deign to look upon Hisoka, he saw his lover wore a look of utter resignation. “Please, Chrollo. Can we speak in private?”

Chrollo looked at Silva and Silva held up his hands, removing himself from the situation. It made Chrollo’s stomach tighten with nervousness. Swallowing, he took Silva’s piece with little pleasure, even though Silva seemed utterly shocked at the sudden and decisive victory. 

“Fine,” he said, standing up from the seat. Silva was giving him a look that said he didn’t have to go if he really didn’t want to, but Chrollo ignored it. “Let’s get this over with.” Prolonging things would only make them worse, and if Hisoka had finally gathered the wherewithal to seek Chrollo out in Silva’s room, it meant that his patience was wearing thin. 

“I’d wish for you to be a little less resigned when you say that, but I suppose I should take what I can get,” Hisoka said, his attempt at teasing falling a bit short. Nodding to Silva, he wrapped an arm around Chrollo’s waist, guiding him towards the door. “Good afternoon, Hunter.”

“Have fun,” Silva grunted behind them, but Chrollo didn’t have the chance to say his own goodbye before Hisoka had him whisked out the door and into the hallway. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, shaking off Hisoka’s touch. It felt too warm, too comfortable. If Chrollo let himself get too close, he might forget himself and fall back into their rhythm. 

Surprisingly, Hisoka didn’t force the contact. He kept his hands to himself and seemed almost nervous now that they were in the hall together. “I wanted to go somewhere private,” Hisoka said, “if that’s alright with you.”

Chrollo furrowed his brow, crossing his arms tightly. “So now you’re asking?” he asked pointedly. 

“Please, Chrollo,” Hisoka sighed, hand gesturing before them, pleading for him to accept. “I’m trying. You said you didn’t like me being pushy. Is this not what you wanted?”

He was… trying? Chrollo stared at Hisoka in shock, unsure if he had heard right. “It is…” he said slowly, wondering if perhaps something had happened to his lover. Something drastic. Nothing else would explain him being so conciliatory. “I guess that’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Hisoka breathed, sounding relieved. He settled his hand gently behind Chrollo’s back, not touching but guiding him forward. “I figured we could talk in our room. It’s the only place the servants can’t eavesdrop, and you know well enough how much Nvidia loves her gossip.”

Chrollo certainly did. For as tight-laced as she was, she certainly wasn’t tight-lipped. He kept close to Hisoka as they walked, hoping that the rest of their little fight hadn’t already been passed along to the other nobles within their social circle. It had been ages since Chrollo had last gone to a gala or meeting with Hisoka, but he still knew how fervently some of the others wished Chrollo to be theirs. Talk of a fight would only rile up the rumors and Chrollo’s wishful suitors. 

The halls were empty as they moved though, granting Chrollo some measure of relief. “So,” he said, glancing up at Hisoka. “When are you going to pay Silva? He won’t leave until you do.”

Hisoka raised a brow, obviously not expecting Chrollo to offer conversation willingly. “I’m not sure. I thought it might be easier just to kill him, but then I was forced to reconsider once I thought of how you might react to that. You profess to be angry at the both of us, but your actions hardly say the same thing.”

They turned a corner and Chrollo held back a smile. Silva’s paranoia wasn’t totally misplaced then. “How much fault can be given to a human for being greedy?” Chrollo asked, shrugging his shoulders. “He was jealous and stupid. He admits to it. You, on the other hand,” he said, glaring up at Hisoka, “won’t admit to anything.”

Hisoka stopped, and Chrollo was confused for a moment until he realized they were standing outside of their bedroom. His lover opened the door and gestured Chrollo inside, locking it behind them once they were truly alone. “Maybe I will now that I’ve had some time to reflect,” Hisoka murmured, watching Chrollo walk deeper into the room. 

Though it had sounded fine in theory, actually being back in the bedroom with Hisoka opened up its own set of problems. Chrollo held himself tightly and looked from the fireplace to the wardrobes, to the vaulted window in the far corner. The bed he steadily ignored. “Start talking,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on anything but Hisoka. “Say it if you’re going to say it.”

Hisoka let out a sigh. “I’m not sure what it is you want me to say to you,” he began, and when Chrollo looked up, he found Hisoka staring at him. “Do you want me to say that I’m sorry? That I missed you? That I’m okay with letting you leave me even though it feels like utter agony to be away from you? I just want things back to how they were before, Chrollo. I can’t stand having you mad at me.”

“You should have thought of that before you hired hunters to drug and kidnap me,” Chrollo said, but the words felt flat. It was hard to be barbed when Hisoka looked so vulnerable. 

“Evidently I should have,” Hisoka mumbled. He turned towards the fire, staring into its crackling depths. The glow of the firelight glinted off his hair, painting his handsome features ethereal. “But I can’t take back what I did. I can’t even say I regret doing it. I don’t, but I regret the rift it’s driven between us.”

Chrollo held his breath and moved closer to his lover. “Do you remember when we met?” he asked carefully, looking too at the fire to avoid his lover’s gaze. “You wasted no time in accepting me into your bed, your home. Your life. You would let me come and go. You would wait for me to come back. At what point did that change?” 

Hisoka turned to take him in, but Chrollo couldn’t meet his eye. “Around the point where I realized I couldn’t live without you, I suppose,” he said levelly. “I realized I couldn’t bear the thought of letting you leave and you finding something better while you were gone.”

“That’s…” Not what Chrollo expected him to say. He put his back to Hisoka, trying and failing to school his expression. “I never would have done that,” he breathed, holding himself tighter. “I always come home.” This had been his home for so long that to think of another place as comparable… it just felt wrong. Hisoka had intrigued him from the moment he put the blade to his neck. As wonderful as the surface was, Chrollo knew where he would always return to. 

Hisoka wrapped his arms around Chrollo from behind, hooking his chin over his shoulder to kiss Chrollo’s cheek. He ran his hands down Chrollo’s arms, lacing their fingers together gently. “I know,” he said softly, kissing him again. “I should have trusted you more.” Hisoka felt so warm, and Chrollo found himself leaning into the embrace despite his better judgement. Maybe Silva had been right in saying that Chrollo missed Hisoka. 

He lost his train of thought when Hisoka lifted their joined hands and kissed Chrollo’s fingertips, his lips trailing down to bite the silk that wrapped delicately around his forearms. With a purposeful tug, Hisoka slipped the cloth from Chrollo’s arm, letting it flutter to the floor with barely a silent whisper. Chrollo sank his teeth into his bottom lip, gooseflesh rising on the newly bared skin. The same happened with his other hand, the silk leaving him easily, eagerly, so very eager to be free of his flesh that Chrollo felt naked already. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chrollo asked, eyes rooted to the sight of his cast off garments. Why did he let Hisoka do that much? His heart was pounding, his cheeks burning. “Are you trying to seduce me?” he whispered, eyes wide. 

“Why do you ask?” Hisoka said softly, kissing the delicate skin of his inner wrist. “Are you feeling seduced?” 

Chrollo pursed his lips and looked steadfastly at the wall, trying to get angry. While he was distracted, Hisoka carefully turned him until they were face to face, his smile hungry and his eyes so confident. What on earth had given Hisoka so much confidence? They had their moment of sincerity, sure, but Chrollo was still a long way from forgiving him. It only took three steps to back Chrollo up against a wall. Three small, unnecessary steps to trap Chrollo in his arms, to keep him from running away until after he’d had his fun. 

“Still so sensitive, aren’t you?” Hisoka mused, leaning forward to kiss the underside of Chrollo’s jaw next. “You’ve always been so beautifully receptive to me.”

It was dangerous to let Hisoka try this with him, but Chrollo felt himself flush, his knees weak and his body beginning to ache for all that Hisoka promised with every word he whispered. He clutched at Hisoka’s sleeve, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, his expression stern. “Seducing me won’t make me stop resenting you,” he said, his voice sounding weak to his own ears. 

“But it would make you mine again,” Hisoka said, laving his tongue along Chrollo’s sensitive ear. “It would put you back in my bed where I could at least pretend you were still beholden to me. I’ve missed you so much, Chrollo. Please. Please don’t turn me away.”

Chrollo shivered enough for Hisoka to feel it too. A teasing sharpness caressed his ear, Hisoka’s teeth trailing along the tapered edge with a dizzying slowness, pausing just for a moment to kiss the earrings he had given Chrollo so very, very long ago. Chrollo couldn’t breathe, and when the warm, insistent hands began to tug at his clothing, he lost the fight with his common sense to tell Hisoka to stop. It felt so good. He didn’t want to end it now, even though he knew he should. 

“Just look at you,” Hisoka breathed, leaving Chrollo’s ear alone to take in the mess he had made of him. It only took a careful pull on the knot at the base of his neck to bare Chrollo’s shoulders, another to guide the top down around his hips. “You are so beautiful. You’ve haunted my dreams ever since you left. Even now I feel as if I’m dreaming.” 

Chrollo leaned heavily against the wall as Hisoka trailed his knuckles along the old scars on his neck, and then down his chest, caressing his skin reverently. “Hisoka,” he whined, closing his eyes when he felt the hand pass his navel, settling on the single tie that held the last of his clothing to him. They were already in the bedroom. It would fall and so would Chrollo, just like crumpled silk upon the floor. “You’re teasing me.” 

“Will you forgive me?” his lover asked, pinning Chrollo to the wall with his warm, hard body. His hands closed around Chrollo’s wrists, holding him in place as if Chrollo were in danger of moving at all. “It’s been so long. I want to make up for all the time lost between us.”

What could that mean? Chrollo’s mind rushed to think, a thousand acts filling the space behind his eyes. Hisoka had already had him in every way imaginable. The idea of any of them right now made Chrollo feel so weak. He wanted it all. And Hisoka knew it. He knew Chrollo had given in, because he was already kissing along his neck and tugging him away from the wall, pulling him towards the door at the far end of the room. 

“You’ll let me spoil you, won’t you?” Hisoka sighed, loosening the final piece of clothing from Chrollo’s hips as they moved. The billowy trousers slipped easily to the ground, Hisoka helping him step out of them before leaving them behind completely. “Gone so long, wasting away in such poor company. You must be starved of your comforts.” 

Chrollo was starved of something. Of his sanity, his common sense. His will power was utterly gone and he was certain that nothing Hisoka had to offer him would bring it back. The hand on his lower back was hot enough to burn his skin, guiding him through the door into the warm, humid air of the private baths Hisoka kept. Chrollo knew this room well, having bathed in the mineral waters more times than he could count. Hisoka would pamper him plenty. The thought alone was enough to make Chrollo’s legs go weak.

Hisoka caught him before he could drop more than an inch. “You always were so weak to the steam,” he chuckled, guiding Chrollo effortlessly to one of the many ornate chaises that littered the expansive room. 

How many times had Hisoka taken Chrollo on one of them? Chrollo’s thoughts weren’t helping ground him. He whined a little when Hisoka didn’t sit beside him. “What are you going to do to me?” he asked, watching his lover settle between his legs, a large, warm hand wrapping around his ankle. Chrollo hadn’t been shy about his body in quite some time, but the distance or the time apart seemed to have erased what defense he used to have against Hisoka’s steady gaze. 

Smiling, Hisoka brought his fingers to Chrollo’s legs, to the silk wraps he had coiled around his calves. “Everything,” he promised, finding the clasp that held them in place with an accuracy that was unnerving. It wasn’t surprising, though. Hisoka had bought him these clothes, these adornments. Picked them out just for Chrollo. Of course he knew how to take them off. “Are you scared?”

Chrollo shook his head, watching coil after coil of wrapped silk flutter to the ground. When that leg was bare, Hisoka gave his ankle a kiss before moving on to the next. “I’ve never been scared of you,” he said softly, biting his lip when Hisoka looked up from his work. His golden eyes were piercing. 

“You haven’t, have you?” Hisoka smiled, shaking his head a little as he let go of Chrollo’s ankle. Leaning up, he kissed Chrollo deeply, cupping his head in his large hand. “My fearless little songbird,” he murmured against Chrollo’s lips. “You make me want to break your wings.”

The words alone made Chrollo tremble with want. He settled his hands on Hisoka’s broad shoulders, losing himself in the kiss for as long as he could. The steam was filling his senses, dulling them as it always did. The perfumed water was always that way, some needless aphrodisiac that Hisoka hoarded in hopes of dragging Chrollo down into his hedonistic ways. It worked, of course, but Chrollo rarely gave in so easily. Not like this, at least. 

Hisoka broke the kiss before Chrollo could let the black overtake his vision. He stared down at Chrollo happily, brushing back his hair to see his eyes. “I think I’ll have you in the bath before I have you in our bed,” he mused so casually that it nearly passed Chrollo by entirely. “Your skin always smells so good after you bathe. I barely need the perfume.”

Blinking slowly, Chrollo leaned into his touch. “Carry me?” he asked, feeling lethargic. It would feel so nice to be in the warm waters, Hisoka at his back, touching him so gently beneath the water. They rarely got to indulge like this together, even before. And wasn’t this nice? Hisoka was setting aside his work for him, pursuing him like a priority. The Chrollo of few months ago would have leapt at this opportunity. The Chrollo of now couldn’t quite refuse it either. 

Smiling, Hisoka lifted him easily beneath the thighs, committing to the decision for him. “Oh, Chrollo,” he frowned, hefting Chrollo a bit higher. “You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? I knew that beast wasn’t providing for you.”

Chrollo shook his head, his arms looped around his lover’s neck. “It’s from the walking,” he explained, sighing lowly as Hisoka settled him into the warm, frothing waters. “I eat plenty, so don’t go bothering Silva about that.” He looked up as Hisoka pulled away from him, still standing on the ledge beside the waters. Hisoka was still dressed, soaked up to his elbows but otherwise untouched. 

Scoffing, Hisoka moved over to a stone table, selecting from the assorted vials the soaps and oils he wished to use. “I’ll blame him for every little blemish I find on your perfect body, pet,” he said, holding a ruby red crystal vial up to the light. His golden eyes cut over to Chrollo, his expression stern. “You’re mine to mark. No one else’s.”

“Hmm. Are you going to strip anytime soon?” Chrollo asked, watching Hisoka expectantly. He rested his arms on the edge of the inground pool, chin propped on his forearm. “I’d hate to bathe alone.”

“Impatient. I love it.” Hisoka sighed with a smile, bringing his choices over and setting them down beside Chrollo. “I want to treat you, so let me at least make sure I’m using the good stuff.” Chrollo picked up one of the bottles and watched out of the corner of his eye as Hisoka cast off his shirt and kicked off his shoes, the expensive garments falling to the damp floor in an uncaring heap. 

“You’re so wasteful,” he murmured. The bottle in his hand was indeed the good stuff. Just an ounce of it cost more than Chrollo’s entire wardrobe, and if he knew Hisoka, which he did, he knew they were about to waste the whole bottle. He was going to complain, but Chrollo’s cheeks darkened when he finally looked at his lover properly, taking in the broad, muscled expanse of his chest, the cut physique he wore cockily. Hisoka’s hands dropped to his waistband, slipping the silk belt from the loops until they were loose enough to step out of. 

Chrollo tried and failed to tear his eyes away, his mouth dry and his body hot all over. Hisoka’s cock was hard, of course, hanging thick and heavy between his strong thighs. 

“Suddenly shy?” Hisoka asked, brow raised as he slipped sinuously into the warm waters. “Sweet blackbird, you’re so cute when you’re skittish.” 

Chrollo shoved the vial at Hisoka’s chest blindly, his cheeks on fire. His attention was jerked back though when Hisoka grabbed his wrist, dragging him into his lap easily. “I’m not shy,” he tried to say, looking anywhere but at his lover. His knees settled on the bath’s built in ledge, comfortably submerged up to his chest in the warm water. 

“Somehow I doubt you,” Hisoka teased, kissing along his neck as his hands explored beneath the water. “But don’t stop, I beg you. You remind me so much of our first time together when you get like this. Do you remember it? I do, fondly.”

“That was decades ago,” Chrollo muttered, resting his forehead on Hisoka’s strong shoulder. He heard the pop of the vial’s lid and then felt a stream of cool liquid roll down his back, the enchanted oil staying put even beneath the water. He gasped as it filled his senses with warmth, with the heady scent of decadent fruit and sex. “We were a lot different then.”

Hisoka hummed, rubbing the oil into his skin reverently, massaging his tired muscles. “Not so different,” he said, letting a single hand slip down the line of Chrollo’s ass, rolling a finger against his entrance. Chrollo went stiff, but Hisoka didn’t go further. “You were still beautiful, and I still wanted to ruin every inch of you.”

Chrollo shivered, the teasing passes of Hisoka’s finger not enough. He leaned up to kiss and mouth at Hisoka’s ear, spreading his thighs wider as subtly as he could. “I wanted to kill you back then,” he whispered like a secret though he knew Hisoka already knew. 

“Not so much anymore, then?” Hisoka’s finger pressed harder, slipping past the ring of muscle. The oil coating it made Chrollo burn inside, his body sweating as his need grew. “What about now? After I dragged you back into my arms so rudely?”

Gasping, Chrollo couldn’t reply. Hisoka pressed deeper, opening him up with an almost lackadaisical care. For a moment, it was all Chrollo could do to hold onto the upper ledge, his hips up and bearing down on Hisoka’s finger greedily. He wanted more. He wanted more but he didn’t want to ask for it, not when Hisoka should be the one begging Chrollo to let him. 

“You look like you want to say something,” Hisoka observed, his lips curved like he knew every thought running through Chrollo’s fevered mind. “Did you want some more? I could stop if you hate it.”

The thought of stopping was unbearable. Chrollo shook his head, kissing Hisoka’s cheek desperately. “Please don’t stop,” he said softly, the rippling water louder than his voice. “I want more.”

“Then let me give it to you, pet,” his lover crooned, turning his head to catch Chrollo’s lips in a kiss. He began pressing in another finger, his free hand soothing Chrollo when he began to tremble. The pace was gentle, as gentle as the water rolling against them, and Hisoka moved his attention to Chrollo’s neck, his breath almost cool in the overwhelming heat of the room. 

Chrollo knew it was coming but he still flinched when Hisoka sank his sharp teeth into the crook of his neck. The grip on his hip tightened, keeping him from jerking away. Chrollo gasped and went boneless against Hisoka’s chest, the warm, scented water muddling the pain until it all felt good. It was the most familiar thing so far, this dizzying pain and rolling pleasure. 

“You really did miss me, didn’t you?” he murmured, wincing as the teeth pulled away, the hot blood trickling down his skin slowly. “It must make you so mad that most of your marks have faded.”

Hisoka gave an appreciative hum, too busy lapping up the blood to bother answering. His hand couldn’t seem to settle on a place to stop, running down Chrollo’s thighs and back, his arms and chest as if Hisoka needed to reacquaint himself with his wayward lover’s body. The fingers fucking into him paused, removing themselves to Chrollo’s utter dismay. But he didn’t have much control anymore, and he understood it. Chrollo was making it too easy for Hisoka by sitting in his lap like this. Too easy to fall back into how they had been before. 

The teeth hovered over another portion of skin, this time Chrollo’s shoulder. He shivered as Hisoka kissed the spot tenderly, his warm breath the worst kind of tease. “I haven’t forgiven you, Hisoka,” Chrollo whispered, hiding his face in Hisoka’s neck. 

“And why not?” his lover asked, his hands cradling Chrollo’s hips lovingly. His cock was hard between Chrollo’s spread thighs, brushing against his leg every time he shifted. “I think you missed me too. How could you begrudge me for bringing you back home where you belong when you missed me too?”

Chrollo was spared from answering by Hisoka taking another bite. The pain swelled and sharpened, tingling from his cheeks to his toes. The water below began to tinge pink with drops of red, dissipating slowly, just like Chrollo’s resolve. He held Hisoka’s head to his shoulder, begging silently for him to bite harder. 

It wasn’t a lie to say that Chrollo missed Hisoka. He had. He really, really had. Silva was all well and good, something different from the monotony of Chrollo’s everyday life, but Hisoka. Hisoka knew how to hurt him, and that more than anything made Chrollo sing. 

Hisoka smiled against his shoulder, bloody lips nearly burning as he tore his teeth from Chrollo’s skin. He went in for a kiss that Chrollo didn’t refuse, passing the taste of cold iron on his tongue with a skillful press, a dizzying dance that always left Chrollo gasping for breath. 

“You do belong here, Chrollo,” Hisoka breathed, pulling back just to make Chrollo chase his lips. “You just need reminded of it every now and again.”

It probably had been a mistake to let Hisoka get this close again. It had probably been a mistake to kiss him, touch him, speak to him like this. Chrollo wrapped his arms around Hisoka’s neck and tangled his fingers in the thick, blood-red hair at his nape. Such an odd color down here, but it suited Hisoka like nothing else. 

“Remind me all you want,” Chrollo whispered, lapping up the remaining gore from his lover’s lips. “I will still want to fly.”

Hisoka let out a shudder of want, his piercing golden eyes narrowing into thin slivers. “Oh, Chrollo,” he growled, rolling Chrollo’s name on his tongue like a song. The grip on Chrollo’s hips turned mean. “I really did miss you.”

There was nothing teasing about the kiss that Hisoka offered up to him. It was deep, commanding, and passionate enough to burn. Chrollo whined into it, closing his eyes as Hisoka licked into his mouth and reacquainted himself with all he had gone without during Chrollo’s absence. Blood tinged their saliva, the taste growing stronger when their tongues skimmed pointed teeth haphazardly. Chrollo clutched at Hisoka’s hair and plastered himself to his lover’s chest, their cocks rocking together with an almost frantic urgency. 

When Hisoka stood, he took Chrollo with him. Holding him by the thighs, he brought them out of the water, hefting Chrollo easily onto the waiting ledge. “I want to take you in our bed, my blackbird,” Hisoka crooned, his voice husky and deep as he spoke against Chrollo’s ear. “I pray you won’t run from me if I try.”

This had definitely been a mistake. Chrollo brought his hand to his mouth to stifle his broken cry for more. Hisoka was gloating. He could see it in his every move, in how Hisoka lowered himself to lap at Chrollo’s cock, in how he probed at Chrollo’s entrance with fingers that knew just how to move to make him melt. Chrollo fought to prop himself up when Hisoka’s mouth went lower, his tongue fucking into him mercilessly alongside his fingers. A mistake. It had been a mistake to think he could do this without letting Hisoka drag him right back to where they had left off. 

“You’re terrible,” Chrollo moaned, covering his face with his wrist. His body felt so alive, his legs trembling with their need to wrap around Hisoka’s head and make him go deeper. “Awful. You think you’re so good but I didn’t miss this at all.” 

The pleasure stopped, but just for Hisoka to smile up at him, his mouth a mess of oil and saliva. “Liar,” he said, his voice a little softer than Chrollo expected it to be. His big hands smoothed down Chrollo’s thighs, and then Hisoka looked down at the patchwork of scars he’d left on them over the years, his eyes hardening. Before Chrollo could ask what was wrong, Hisoka was hefting himself out of the bath, dragging Chrollo up by the wrist and onto his shaky, unsteady feet. He didn’t have to stumble long, though. Hisoka lifted him into his arms, making for the bedroom door with an intent in his eyes that couldn’t be misconstrued. 

The bedroom was cold compared to the baths and Chrollo curled into Hisoka for warmth, kissing his neck as he was carried to the bed and deposited onto the soft, welcoming sheets. Unlike the bed from the tavern, this one felt comfortable, clean and large and built of the most expensive materials available beneath the earth. Chrollo rolled along the silken sheets, grabbing for Hisoka impatiently. He was tired of waiting, of resisting his lover. There would be time to be angry later, but for now, all Chrollo wanted to do was be welcomed home in the best way he could imagine. 

It was all too natural, falling back into this familiar rhythm. Hisoka covered him easily with his body, searching for his lips in a kiss that dominated everything. They had been caught in each other’s ebb and flow for decades, this give and take a neatly choreographed dance by now. Hisoka would take him here or against the wall, fucking him open with his fingers first and then his cock. He would bite Chrollo a few more times, whisper in his ear how he belonged to him, and then Chrollo would cum, as caught up in the moment as Hisoka. It would feel divine, and Chrollo ached to have it all once again. 

Chrollo lifted his hips and arched his spine, spreading his legs like his part required, but to his surprise, Hisoka didn’t respond. He just kept kissing Chrollo, his eyes closed and his hands almost gentle now. Chrollo squirmed, rolling against Hisoka’s hard cock, but Hisoka simply moaned into the kiss, ignoring his own desire in a way he never, ever did. 

Pulling away, Chrollo looked at Hisoka breathlessly. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re never this sedate with me.” Teasing, yes, but never like this. This was almost chaste, and Hisoka was certainly never chaste.

“Is sedate bad?” Hisoka asked, opening his eyes. They were darker now, blown with lust that somehow was still carefully checked. 

“Sedate is weird,” he decided, untangling his arms from Hisoka’s neck. “What are you planning? If you’re still mad, there are better ways to take it out on me.” 

Hisoka’s hands were warm when they stroked down Chrollo’s arms, his smile small and almost self-conscious, if that were ever a word Chrollo would use to describe any part of Hisoka. “Do you like it when I’m rough with you?” he asked casually, so casually that it had to be purposeful. He met Chrollo’s eyes carefully, too restrained in his actions to put Chrollo’s nerves at ease. “I’m never gentle. I rarely ever ask your opinion on it. Does that bother you?”

“Why are you asking me now?” They had been together for years, fucking like this for years. Chrollo shifted impatiently, biting his lip when Hisoka didn’t table the discussion for later. “It’s a bit late to be worrying about that now, isn’t it?”

“I’ve been worrying about it endlessly,” Hisoka said through gritted teeth, “since you ran away from my bed. Just answer the question, Chrollo. Does it bother you? Is that why you resent me? I can see all of you like this. You didn’t let that human of yours hurt you.”

His fidgeting stopped. Chrollo frowned. “Do you really think I ran away because I got sick of you being rough with me when we fuck?” He pushed at Hisoka’s chest, making a move to get off the bed, to reach for the clothes still littering the floor. “What I do with Silva is none of your business.” Hisoka was such an idiot. He had to be trying to get inside Chrollo’s head, to make him feel guilty about leaving. If that was his game, then there was no reason for Chrollo to entertain him any longer.  

He made it nearly to the edge of the bed before he was stopped. Quick as a whip, Hisoka grabbed his wrist, preventing him from fleeing completely. The tight, careful look from before was gone. In its place sat desperation. Worry. 

“Well, what else could it be?” Hisoka asked, looking lost. “Haven’t I been good to you? You’ve never wanted for anything here. It was either me or you were stolen, and your hunter already vouched that you weren’t taken from me. So what was it?” he asked, looking into Chrollo’s eyes desperately. “Was I not available to you enough? If I wasn’t satisfying you I would have done more, you didn’t have to run off and find another lover.”

He really didn’t understand at all. Chrollo was stunned by the realization, enough so that it made it easy for Hisoka to drag him back into his arms, to pin him back down onto the luxurious bed they had shared together for nearly fifty years. “Did I… hurt your feelings?” Chrollo whispered, cupping Hisoka’s cheek in his hand. It wasn’t an act. Even in a lie Hisoka would refuse to give up his pride. This was the truth, laid bare and vulnerable at Chrollo’s feet. The purest kind of supplication. “You were really worried you had done something wrong, weren’t you?”

Hisoka leaned into his touch, nearly pouting. “What else was I supposed to think?” he muttered, avoiding Chrollo’s eyes. “You left without a note. Without any sign of why or when you would return, if ever. And then I bring you back and you’re in the arms of some human, even after you knew he sold you out to bring you to me. It doesn’t make any sense.” He paused, hiding his eyes in his fringe. “I know… I understand that I can be a bit much sometimes, but I thought that you were happy here with me.”

The guilt Chrollo had avoided for so long swelled in his chest. He combed through Hisoka’s hair with his fingers, tugging him down, embracing him. “I was happy here,” he whispered. “So happy. And I still am.”

“Then why did you leave me?” Hisoka asked, hiding his face against Chrollo’s shoulder. 

“I’ve told you before,” Chrollo said, rolling them over so that he could lay across Hisoka’s chest and meet his avoidant eye. It was hard to get Hisoka to stop fighting him, but he managed by taking his lover’s chin in his hand. “I want to travel. I want to experience things.”

“So you had to just, just _leave me_?” Hisoka interrupted, narrowing his golden eyes. He batted Chrollo’s hand from his face, rolling them back over to pin Chrollo to the bed. Chrollo didn’t fight it, knowing it made Hisoka feel better, more in control. “I _worried_ about you!” he said accusatorily, as if it had been a hardship, something he never wanted to do again. 

“And _you_ sent bounty hunters after me,” Chrollo shot back, meeting Hisoka’s glare head on. “I don’t expect you to understand, Hisoka. That’s why I didn’t bother saying anything. You would have stopped me because you don’t understand. I would have come back on my own but you were too impatient to let me do that.”

Something in Hisoka seemed to die, either the fight or his will to feign apathy. He frowned and avoided Chrollo’s eye again, letting out a sad huff of breath. “But what if you didn’t?” he asked quietly. “What if you had fallen for that insufferable human and forgotten all about me? So what if you don’t love the Underdark? This is a horrid place, so that’s understandable. But what of me?” He met Chrollo’s eye carefully, looking far more vulnerable than Chrollo had ever seen him be before. “You’re all I have down here, and unlike you, I’m in no position to run away to the surface to follow you.”

Chrollo sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment and then letting it go. His chest felt tight. Hisoka was a lot of things but upfront about his needs? His vulnerabilities? Never. Chrollo brought his hands to his lover’s warm shoulders, stroking down his smooth skin. “I never said I wasn’t being selfish,” he whispered, dragging Hisoka down on top of him so he could hide his face against Hisoka’s neck. “But I’m back now, aren’t I? You know it wasn’t your fault, and even though I’m mad at you for the way you did it, I’m still glad to be home.” 

“You mean that?” Hisoka asked, holding him close, kissing along his ear and the earrings he’d given him, the ones Chrollo had killed a man to protect. 

Chrollo smiled a small smile. “I’m in our bed again, aren’t I?” he answered, drawing his hands lower, digging his nails in a little to elicit a shiver from his lover. Kissing Hisoka’s shoulder, he stopped hiding, biting his lip with a flush on his cheeks. “Where you always want me.”

There was no mistaking the heat in his lover’s eyes. Hisoka wore lust like a second skin, one that clung to his muscled body and refused to be parted from him until Chrollo lay spent and breathless, wrecked and bloody and singing with pleasure. It took Chrollo’s breath away now to see it, and Hisoka leaned in for a kiss, licking into his mouth with the confidence of someone who felt entitled enough to lay his claim without question. 

“Are you sure?” Hisoka asked once they broke apart, holding Chrollo’s small hand to his cheek. 

Chrollo nodded, spreading his thighs and baring his throat. “I want you,” he said, “so don’t make me wait any more.” 

He began slowly as if he needed to familiarize himself with Chrollo’s body. Kissing down his chest, Hisoka licked and sucked, his teeth gentle for the moment though that wasn’t likely to last for much longer. Chrollo sighed and combed his fingers through his lover’s thick hair, the warmth from before returning slowly, gradually, until he was fidgeting and whining for more. 

“You’re being so gentle,” Chrollo breathed, closing his eyes as Hisoka lapped at his nipple, rolling the other between his fingers with a care that was almost dizzying. His toes curled in the silk sheets, the feeling of the smooth fabric against his naked skin almost like an embrace in itself. 

Pulling off his treat, Hisoka blew warm breath across the damp surface of his skin, making Chrollo gasp. “I know,” he said, kissing down his sternum, his hips. He spent time at Chrollo’s navel, kissing and licking, his eyes always watching, looking for something in Chrollo’s expression that Chrollo couldn’t name. “Do you hate it?”

Chrollo shook his head, letting go of Hisoka’s hair with one hand to fist the sheets above his head. “It’s so weird,” he said, breath ragged. This was more like how Silva made love than how Hisoka fucked, and for the life of him, Chrollo didn’t know how to process it. The dissonance was heady though, and he couldn’t bring himself to complain, or tell Hisoka to stop. 

“I know,” his lover repeated softly, kissing the head of Chrollo’s cock briefly before disregarding it entirely. That, at least, was familiar, the denial. But then Hisoka paused by his thighs. He eyes flicked up to meet Chrollo’s, asking for permission for something he had never questioned before. “Can I...?” he led, trailing off to lave his tongue along Chrollo’s inner thigh. His teeth were gentle when they nipped his skin, showing rather than telling what he wanted to do and where. 

“Don’t ask,” Chrollo gasped, clutching at Hisoka’s hair with his fingers. “Don’t ever, ever ask. Just do it. I want you to do it. Make me hurt. I want to hurt.” He trusted Hisoka with this. There was no need to question anything, not when it came to things like pleasure, pain, and the heady combination that Hisoka knew how to deliver with just his mouth, his hands. Hisoka sank his teeth into Chrollo and Chrollo let out a loud cry, throwing his head back as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. His thighs trembled and his cock leaked pitifully. 

He wanted more. He wanted everything he had missed during his absence from Hisoka’s bed, and he wanted it now. 

Hisoka let go of his thigh, blood coloring his lips like macabre lipstick. “It’s infuriating how beautiful you are,” he sighed, kissing his way up Chrollo’s body, leaving a smear of red as he went. “Do you know how much I worried when you disappeared? I thought you’d been taken from me.”

“T-taken?” Chrollo gasped, shivering and sweating while Hisoka took his time. His lover’s fingers dipped inside his entrance, fucking into him gently, teasingly, making him arch his spine as Hisoka entertained himself with Chrollo’s body. 

“By another,” Hisoka sighed, his voice carrying none of the desperation Chrollo felt now. “By one of my rivals, or one of your countless admirers. I tell you after every function we hold how many of the others approach me, asking how much it would cost to get me to part with my lovely pet.” His fingers crooked then, spearing Chrollo mercilessly in the spot that made his vision flood white. “I thought someone might have grown tired of my refusals,” Hisoka said, eyes hard, his expression angry and jealous at the thought. 

“What would you have done?” Chrollo laughed breathlessly, fucking himself on Hisoka’s fingers. The memory of the shuttered, empty manor across the way flashed through his mind, a smile curling onto his lips. They were back in familiar territory now, and that was what Chrollo wanted. It all felt so good. His thighs burned, his shoulders stinging as he sweated. “What would you have done if I had been taken? If you had gotten word of me laying in some other noble’s bed?”

“I would have slaughtered the entire palace,” Hisoka delivered slowly, teeth bared, eyes as bright as poison. “I would have made them suffer for taking what’s mine.” 

Chrollo moaned, clutching the pillow beneath his head as Hisoka took back his fingers and spread his thighs wide to make room for what came next. Finally. He had finally realized what Chrollo wanted, how he wanted it. “And if I was happier there?” Chrollo asked, opening an eye to smile at his vicious lover. “And if I enjoyed their touch more than yours?”

There was no warning given for when Hisoka thrust inside Chrollo, muscles bulging in his arms as he held himself over Chrollo, shaking with the urge to move, to fuck into him like an animal. Chrollo arched his spine in a perfect arc, lungs devoid of air, mind devoid of thought. Hisoka bent him in half and bit at Chrollo’s ear, his voice nothing but a rough, lust-darkened growl. 

“I’d kill them in front of you,” he promised, sinking his teeth into Chrollo’s shoulder again. It wasn’t deep this time, but it hurt. It hurt beautifully. “I’d slaughter them all and fuck you in the mess until you changed your mind.”

It was better than Chrollo could have imagined. He let loose of the pillow to grab Hisoka’s sweaty hair, forcing their mouths together. The kiss tasted of blood and obsession and notes of utter truth. Hisoka lost his hold on holding back and his hips connected with Chrollo’s in a quick, hard rhythm that punched the air from Chrollo’s lungs. The slap of skin against skin filled the air, every thrust dragging against Chrollo’s bitten thighs. Hisoka’s name fell from Chrollo’s lips in a litany, the pain and pleasure mixing until there was no distinguishing the two. It all felt good. It felt so right. 

And somehow, inexplicably, Hisoka had the breath to keep going. He laughed darkly in Chrollo’s ear, soothing the sting his teeth had made. “Do you like that?” he asked, changing the rhythm to something slower, almost teasing in its pace. “Do you like the idea of fucking in the blood of the dogs who mounted you? Of coming apart just inches from their lifeless husks? Of letting their dead eyes watch you writhe on my cock?”

Chrollo didn’t know how he expected him to reply when he could hardly gather the breath to cry out, let alone speak. Tears fell from his eyes, his hands scratching at Hisoka’s muscled arms. “They don’t deserve to see me,” Chrollo gasped, feeling Hisoka stop completely at that. Blinking through the wetness, Chrollo managed a smile, so hard that it was beginning to hurt. “Isn’t that right?”

Hisoka’s answering smile was positively vicious. His eyes glistened behind his messy fringe, his sharp teeth bestial in the low light of their bedroom. He grabbed Chrollo’s wrists in one of his hands, pinning them above Chrollo’s head with a low laugh. “You’re perfect for me, Chrollo,” he decided, shaking his head as he chuckled. “No one could satisfy me like you.” 

“Then maybe you should stop talking,” Chrollo huffed pitifully, tugging at his wrists just to feel the power his lover commanded, “and start satisfying me too.” His thighs were trembling at being denied, Hisoka’s cock so hard and hot inside him. Chrollo clenched pointedly, and Hisoka stopped holding back. 

“Pretty blackbird wants to sing for me,” Hisoka whispered, thrusting in hard, hard enough to make Chrollo keen. He held tightly to Chrollo’s wrists, so tight that Chrollo knew escape was impossible. “Do it, pet. I haven’t heard your voice in so long.”

He felt so exposed like this, Hisoka’s eyes roving over his body as if it were his to do with as he pleased. Chrollo licked at his lips and let out another moan, the pace overtaking him easily. Hisoka’s body was strong, built for power and dominance and he used every ounce of it to make Chrollo submit. Closing his eyes did little to hide from it, and Chrollo let his voice out, as beholden to the pleasure as Hisoka was to him. 

“H-Hisoka,” he cried messily, squirming and clenching, doing all he could to get Hisoka to move faster, to touch him where he need to be touched. “H-Hisoka, please. Let me cum, I need it so much-” 

He didn’t get to finish his pleading, caught up as he was in Hisoka changing angles, directing every thrust against the spot that made his toes curl. Chrollo parted his lips but nothing came out but a breathless, choked cry. He stopped seeing. He stopped thinking. Chrollo wrapped his burning thighs around Hisoka’s waist, giving in entirely, his mind gone to the pleasure. 

The hand binding his wrists went tight and in the next instant, Chrollo was being kissed, Hisoka stealing the breath from his lungs in a hungry, dominating kiss. Chrollo’s cock was trapped between his stomach and Hisoka’s abs, the stimulation too much all at once. Chrollo came with a broken sob, the sound swallowed up in the kiss. His body tensed, his spine arched, and Hisoka broke the kiss to bite down hard on his neck, cumming inside him in thick, hot bursts. 

As tired as he was, as messy as he was, Chrollo could only smile up at the ceiling, his vision awash with white and dancing lights, with pleasure and pain and a pure, inarticulate sensation that felt so familiar, so intimately right, that he never wanted to come down. It’d been so long since he had last been here, surrounded by warmth, by the scent of Hisoka and blood and sweat and the passion they made when their bodies came together. Chrollo closed his eyes and let his legs slip from Hisoka’s waist, his body boneless and lethargic and utterly content. This, if nothing else, had been worth being brought back for. 

“Don’t fall asleep so soon, pet,” Hisoka crooned, brushing Chrollo’s bangs from his eyes. He leaned in, kissing Chrollo’s lip, his hands still so explorative after all he’d already touched. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.”

Chrollo whined, closing his eyes to arch as the fingers dipped back inside him to play with the mess Hisoka had left in him. It wasn’t perfect, this tenuous give and take, these barely defined rules they had played by for decades. But as Hisoka kissed down his chest, as he worshipped and kissed and took, Chrollo felt at peace. It didn’t matter right now how long he planned to stay. It didn’t matter that Chrollo had ever left in the first place. It felt like home for the moment, and Chrollo was content to bask in it for as long as Hisoka wanted. 


	12. Chapter Eleven

Silva didn’t worry himself when Chrollo didn’t come back to the room. There were a lot of reasons why the conversation could be dragging on, he figured. Another argument perhaps, or maybe Chrollo had succeeded in getting through Hisoka’s thick skull. Silva nearly laughed at the thought, cleaning up the game board and slowly examining every piece before he put it back in the silk bag it had come in. It was probably the former, in all honesty. Hisoka was an idiot and no amount of conversation could help that. 

So no, Silva didn’t worry when Chrollo still hadn’t come back after an hour. Or even two, or three. The day wore on and Silva grew impatient, but worry wasn’t a part of that. Not at all. If he peered out into the hallway every so often to listen for the sounds of voices, he would say it was due to concern. If he paced the room once the faux night descended, it was due to irritation, but not worry. Never worry. 

Eventually the hour grew late enough that Silva was forced to sleep, and still Chrollo was gone. The bed felt too big, the sheets too cold. Silva gritted his teeth and sucked it up, closing his eyes and forcing himself to ignore it. Chrollo had his reasons. If it were taking him this long to sort out his problems, then Silva should give him the benefit of the doubt. He had made his offer already. It was up to Chrollo to take it. 

But, when morning came and there still was no sight of Chrollo, Silva began to assume the worst. 

Did it really take that long to figure out their issues? Silva went through the daily motions he had become accustomed to making while under Hisoka’s roof; he got up, washed his face, partook of the breakfast that was sitting out in the parlor near his room, and set himself to maintaining his weapons though he hadn’t had an opportunity to use them yet. 

The further along he got in his routine, the lower his mood fell. 

Silva wasn’t a fool. For every hour that Chrollo was away, the realization of what the two Drow were doing became more and more likely. Grinding his teeth became harder to avoid, and Silva chewed the inside of his cheek as he sharpened his knife for the tenth time. Every instance of Chrollo praising Hisoka rose into his mind unbidden, reminding him once again that Chrollo had a history with the man, and that history wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as Silva might have wished it to be. 

So when the door knob rattled and cracked open, Silva was hardly in a good mood to entertain the Drow that poked his head inside. Chrollo came in despite it, a tired smile on his face and dressed in something far different than what he had worn the last time Silva saw him. The implications grew, especially when Silva caught sight of the new wrappings around Chrollo’s neck. The bandages were a stark white against the Drow’s dark skin. Silva’s jaw tightened at the sight. 

“So I see you two made up last night,” Silva said, hating how bitter the words came out. It was idiotic to think he had any claim on Chrollo. Not when he wore Hisoka’s so proudly already. 

Chrollo hummed tiredly, gliding into the room in a gown of soft grey. Silva’s eyes were drawn to the sight of his collarbones, the deep neckline plunging down, down, far past the rules of common decency. A jeweled collar rested against his throat, the ruby glistening like blood in the conjured light of the room. Silva wondered if that had been a gift. An old one or a new one? Neither answer settled the discontent rising in the pit of Silva’s stomach. 

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Chrollo mumbled, padding across the plush carpet in his bare feet. Upon closer inspection, Silva found they weren’t quite bare. Delicate silver chains wrapped around his ankles, draping over his feet prettily. They chimed gently as he walked, music following him wherever he went. The effect was arrestingly charming, so much so that Silva felt a ripple of heat wash over him. But Chrollo caught him staring, forcing Silva to look away.  “You don’t mind if I sit, do you? I’m so tired,” the Drow asked, looking a little confused. 

Silva just inclined his head, expecting him to take the seat across from him. Instead, Chrollo pushed aside Silva’s hand from his thigh, seating himself in his lap as if he were entitled to the contact. “What’s wrong, didn’t your lover give you enough attention last night?” he asked a bit harshly. For all of his bitterness, he didn’t even try to refuse the Drow. Chrollo’s hair and skin were fragrant with some heady scent, his robe nearly dripping off his body from its sheerness. Its embroidered trimming seemed to weigh the fabric down, the gold conspiring to bare Chrollo entirely. 

Silva forced himself to look away. “Where is he, anyway?” Silva asked, either to remind Chrollo of the lover he already had or to see just how alone they really were right now. “I didn’t think he’d let you come keep me company when he could have you warming his bed.”

The Drow in his lap gave a soft, tired laugh. “You sound so jealous,” Chrollo replied, not bothering to rise to the bait. His slender hand rested on Silva’s chest, his dark eyes laughing silently as they peered up to meet Silva’s. “Would it make you happy to know that you made Hisoka jealous too? He accused you of treating me better than him, citing that as the reason why I ran away.” 

It was petty and childish, but it did make him feel better. Silva raised a brow and covered Chrollo’s hand with his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss. Whatever Hisoka had done to Chrollo’s skin had made it irresistibly soft. “And what did you say to those accusations?” he wondered, running a hand down the line of Chrollo’s flank. If he tugged just a little harder, Chrollo’s gown might slip off completely. 

“I said that he treats me just fine. That I don’t mind a little pain when I play.” Chrollo looked down and followed the hand as it explored his thigh. “But that doesn’t mean I like to play when I’m exhausted,” he said flatly, plucking Silva’s hand from his leg and depositing it back on his hip. When he looked at Silva, it was with tired warning. “I told him why I left and I left him so he could mull it over. I assume he’s off doing that right now, or seeing to his duties as a noble.”

Silva tried not to look put out that his advances had been rejected. He fixed his eyes on the gem hanging from Chrollo’s slender throat instead. “And what about this?” Silva asked, nodding curtly towards the collar. “I hadn’t thought you the type to accessorize past your earrings.” Which were also a gift from Hisoka, if Silva wasn’t mistaken. The thought alone made him burn. 

Chrollo raised a brow and looked down at the collar he wore. “Don’t like it? It’s worth more than your life,” he said plainly. He brought his fingers up to play with it, the ornate lace of the collar itself blending beautifully with the color of his skin. “It’s an old gift,” he confirmed after a moment of thought. “I sold it on the surface but as it turns out, Hisoka’s hired hunters bought it back for him.”

“But _he_ gave it to you, didn’t he?” Silva said, glaring at the piece. “He bought it back and put it on you again.”

“ _He_ gave me everything, Silva,” Chrollo answered, his humor obvious. “Everything I have. A home, affection.” He leaned in, lips at Silva’s ear. “It bothers you so much, doesn’t it? That I wear his marks and his gems.”

It did. It bothered him endlessly. Silva closed his eyes and gripped Chrollo’s hip in his hand, a shiver crawling down his spine when the lips began to kiss and nip at his ear. It hardly seemed fair that Hisoka got to lay his claim in so many ways, and Silva with nothing at all to show for himself. He wanted to mark Chrollo. He wanted to sear his name into that damnably perfect skin until the whole world knew that Silva had been there, that Chrollo was his to touch. 

“Do you want to mark me too?” Chrollo whispered, reading his thoughts easily. “Are you wondering why I never let you before?”

Silva growled, hating that he was being riled up so easily. “Why didn’t you?” 

“Because you don’t need to lay your claim upon me,” the Drow said, kissing Silva’s cheek teasingly. His hands traveled down Silva’s chest, the brush of his hair against Silva’s neck so soft. “You’ve done it with just your hands on my hips. Hisoka is _that_ jealous, after all.”

He was, wasn’t he? Silva would be a liar if he said the thought didn’t please him. He squeezed Chrollo’s hips and watched the pretty Drow sigh, his soft lips parting, his long lashes kissing his cheeks as he blinked slowly. It really was unfair how attractive Chrollo was. Everything about him invited Silva closer, like poisonous berries hanging from a beautiful wreath. This had to a trap, but to what end? Silva was tempted to play along just to see how far it got him, how much it earned him. He’d eaten of this tree before, so surely the toxin couldn’t hurt him much. 

“Ah, Chrollo,” Silva grunted, torn from his thoughts as the Drow’s hands ghosted over his trapped length. “What are you doing?”

Chrollo smiled against his skin and laughed a little laugh, unlacing the ties that kept Silva’s trousers closed. “I can see how much you want me right now, Silva,” he whispered. “You’re not very subtle about it.”

Silva gritted his teeth. “That’s not what I meant, you brat.” But Chrollo was dipping his hand inside, pulling him into the cool, open air. He clutched the armrest with one hand and Chrollo’s narrow hip with the other. “Won’t Hisoka throw a fit if he finds you touching me?” If they had made up then why was Chrollo still bothering with Silva anyway? He hadn’t thought of himself as much more than a distraction while they worked things out. 

For all of Silva’s worry, Chrollo didn’t seem to hold even an ounce of his own. He nuzzled Silva’s neck and began to stroke, skimming his thumb over the head of his cock. “You act like he’s allowed to have a say in the things I do,” the Drow huffed, nipping Silva’s skin gently as a punishment. 

It was getting harder to concentrate, or to worry. Silva sagged into the chair and tugged Chrollo closer, his hand moving to the Drow’s ass. It really was as if Chrollo were wearing nothing, the gown so thin that the smooth lines of his body were made painfully clear. “Isn’t that how it usually goes, though?” he asked lowly. “Someone willing to pay so much to bring you back doesn’t seem like the type of person to be interested in sharing.”

Chrollo threw his other leg over Silva’s hips, straddling him properly. It put his ass firmly in Silva’s hands, his mouth close enough to kiss. His violet lips split into a cheeky smile, eyes dark with mirth. “You don’t know the first thing about Drow, do you?” he teased, dipping forward into the barest brush of a kiss. 

“You’re not even full Drow,” Silva grunted.

“Half seems to be more than enough to have you at my mercy.” Chrollo licked a stripe along Silva’s cheek, laughing softly in his ear. His voice fell like rain, soft and musical and soporific atop the mounting pleasure. “I can do whatever I want, Silva. You’re no threat to him. You’re mine, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still his.”

It was getting harder and harder to make sense of Chrollo’s words. Silva wanted to pretend it was because of the cryptic wording, but he knew it was just an indication that he was nearing his end. He clutched Chrollo’s hips and ass tighter, grinding against the gorgeous Drow. “You’re insatiable, is what you’re saying,” he managed to say just as Chrollo cupped his balls and twisted his hand around his shaft, sending him over with a low groan. He spilled in Chrollo’s hand, his head resting against a slender shoulder. The perfume from before filled his every sense, dizzying when coupled with the afterglow. 

Chrollo combed through Silva’s long hair with his clean hand, laughing his small, pleased laugh. “I might be,” he whispered, bringing his cum covered fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. “But Silva, I think you may be too.” 

The sight alone made Silva want to collapse. His chest heaved and his hands cradled Chrollo’s hips loosely, watching him lap at the mess on his hand. “What are you doing here, Chrollo?” he forced himself to ask, staring into the Drow’s dark, dark eyes. This couldn’t be just whimsy. Silva wasn’t nearly luck enough for it to be anything but calculated. 

“Can’t just enjoy me for the moment, can you?” Chrollo breathed, leaning into his chest. He wrapped his arms around Silva’s neck, purring when Silva held him back. “Did you think I’d forgotten about you?”

“I thought you had your lover back where you wanted him.” It didn’t make sense why he was bothering with Silva still. He hadn’t thought Chrollo forgot about him, but he certainly hadn’t thought he figured much into Chrollo’s interests anymore. 

“Oh, I do,” Chrollo assured, kissing Silva’s cheek. “But I couldn’t just leave my _partner_ all alone, now could I?” He smiled at the word as he said it, making it sound lewd. 

It sounded lewd, but Silva was more confused than enticed. “Partner?” he repeated, giving Chrollo’s ass an appreciative squeeze. “After you’ve made up so… tenderly with your lover, you still want to talk about being my partner?” One of them was being led on and Silva had a startling notion that it wasn’t Hisoka. 

Chrollo sighed, moving to kiss Silva properly. It was deep without being rushed, just a gentle press of tongue and lip that relaxed Silva despite his frustrations. Slowly, Silva closed his eyes and held Chrollo closer, loving the taste of the Drow and the feel of him in his hands. 

“The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive,” Chrollo murmured once he pulled away, his dark eyes all the darker for the ember of want within them. Silva’s breath came up short the longer he looked at him, Chrollo’s beauty almost blinding. “I’m sure we could work something out, don’t you think? So long as everyone’s happy, there’s no reason why we can’t all get what we want.”

It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Silva opened his mouth to ask what he had in mind, only to be cut off by the door once again. Both of them looked as it opened, and Silva was more surprised than Chrollo when Hisoka let himself in again, a sated look on his face that Silva knew came from something more than just finishing whatever work he had been doing. 

The expression fell once Hisoka caught sight of them together, Chrollo curled up in Silva’s lap and Silva’s hands holding him in place. Hisoka wrinkled his nose but didn’t say anything. “There you are,” he greeted, not bothering for an invitation before he walked inside. Chrollo looked up from Silva’s shoulder, smiling at his lover. “If you were so lonely, you could have sent for me. No need to… _bother_ the hunter.” 

Whether from the orgasm or just his own jealousy, Silva felt emboldened. He let his hands move lower on Chrollo’s hips, squeezing pointedly. “He wasn’t bothering me at all,” Silva said, playing with fire and loving it. “I’m more than happy to keep him entertained while you’re off doing whatever it is you do.”

“Play nice, you two,” Chrollo murmured, reaching for Hisoka with an insistent hand. “Are you done with your work?”

“For the moment, yes.” Hisoka cupped Chrollo’s hand in his own, traveling down the delicate arm until he could wrap his arms around Chrollo completely. He glared at Silva but hid it when Chrollo turned in for a kiss. “Are you ready to come back to bed, my blackbird?” he whispered after indulging Chrollo with a chaste kiss. If he tasted the cum on Chrollo’s lips, he didn’t show it. 

Silva frowned when Chrollo fell into Hisoka’s kiss easily, their embrace effortless in a way that spoke of long, committed habit. For a moment, Silva clutched at Chrollo’s hips tighter, rejecting the inevitable separation. Chrollo broke the kiss and looked at him, smiling gently. 

“Yes,” he said, leaning in to kiss Silva again, just as easily as he had kissed Hisoka. Against Silva’s lips he spoke, soft and beautiful and everything that Silva had ever wanted. “I think I’m ready to go back to bed.”

“Then let’s be off,” Hisoka said, lifting Chrollo up and into his arms easily, pulling him from Silva’s lap the way one would pick up a lazy, sleepy cat. Chrollo wrapped his arms and legs around Hisoka welcomingly, tangling his fingers in his lover’s hair. Hisoka held him close and looked down at Silva with something almost like acceptance in his eyes. “Thank you for occupying him, Hunter,” he said, his voice a bit cool. “He can be a handful if left on his own.”

“It was my pleasure,” Silva returned, smiling when Hisoka furrowed his brow. “He’s a delight.”

Hisoka hummed, and Chrollo laughed. “Why aren’t you agreeing, Hisoka?” Chrollo huffed, leaning up to kiss his lover’s pointed, pierced ear. “I’m delightful, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are, pet,” Hisoka soothed, meeting Silva’s eye just to roll his own, a smile on his face. “Let’s get you back to bed. Enjoy the rest of your day, Hunter.”

“I’m sure you’ll be enjoying the rest of yours,” Silva said, watching the Drow turn and make off towards the door. A flicker of envy smoldered in the pit of his stomach at the thought, but it was muted. Manageable. His eyes widened when Chrollo shifted higher in Hisoka’s arms, peeking over his shoulder to look back at Silva with eyes full of mischief.

Chrollo hooked his chin over Hisoka’s shoulder, smiling his mysterious little smile as he was taken towards the door. “Think about it,” he mouthed to Silva, waving tiredly with his still-messy fingers. “Partner.”

Silva swallowed, slumping into the chair the moment the door closed. He wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it after all of that. That was probably Chrollo’s intention, and Silva would be damned if it wasn’t a compelling argument. 


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chrollo wasn’t sure what woke him, only that he was awake and desperately wishing otherwise. 

The circumstances weren’t as bad as they could have been. He was in bed, surrounded by the red curtains that shielded him from the faux light he could just make out through the thick fabric. Hisoka was a warm, dozing weight at his back, arm still slung over Chrollo’s waist, his legs still tangled with Chrollo’s beneath the thin sheets. There was no reason to be awake, but he was. 

“Hisoka,” he whispered, peering over his shoulder at his lover’s sleeping face. “Hisoka, are you awake?”

When Hisoka didn’t stir, Chrollo sighed. It figured. They had been up for most of the night after all, so it stood to reason that the morning would be spent sleeping. Or, Chrollo thought ruefully, it should have been. What had even woken him up? The room was as silent as the grave, the only break in the quiet coming from Hisoka’s soft, steady breaths. 

The hand around his waist tightened, and Chrollo’s eyes went wide when a moment later Hisoka rolled against him, a hard, insistent surprise nudging him against his lower back. “H-Hisoka?” he whispered, thinking him awake. “I know your stamina is impressive, but come on!”

Instead of an answering laugh or a sharp-toothed smile against his neck, Chrollo received another measured breath, another sleepy nuzzle. Hisoka was still fast asleep, though his body didn’t seem to feel the same. 

Chrollo let out a small laugh, rubbing against the insistent cock. Well, this was certainly a surprise. Was this what woke him up? Usually it was Hisoka who woke up first, not the other way around. Chrollo wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Should he wake Hisoka up? Should he just ignore it? Something like that wouldn’t just go away on its own, and it seemed such a waste to let an opportunity like this slip away. 

He held tighter to his pillow, frowning. On the other hand, what had Hisoka done to deserve a treat like that? He certainly hadn’t earned it with his refusal to see Chrollo’s side. They had barely discussed things at all, and falling into bed so quickly hadn’t helped things in the slightest. The cock against his back was insistent, though, rubbing and grinding against him, every so often moving lower to thrust against the curve of Chrollo’s ass. Gods, but it felt good. 

When it really came down to it, Chrollo just wanted it in his mouth, Hisoka earning it be damned. 

Memories flooded him in a wave. He had done this once or twice before. Catching Hisoka asleep wasn’t an easy thing to do, and chances like this came only once every few years. Chrollo blushed at the thought, but he was already moving lower, unwilling to let something like embarrassment or a grudge stop him from doing what he wanted. 

Even looking at Hisoka’s body made Chrollo flush. His lover was laid out in a casual sprawl, his hand above his head while the other lay in Chrollo’s abandoned spot. His dark, blood red hair was fanned out along the pillow, a halo that emphasized the sharpness of his face, the wicked curve of his lips. A pang of want stabbed Chrollo somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Hisoka went on and on about how beautiful Chrollo was, but he didn’t seem to understand just how much he affected Chrollo with a body and face like that. 

“It’s so unfair,” Chrollo muttered, tugging the sheet still clinging to Hisoka’s hips away, baring him fully. Strong, muscled arms, strong, muscled thighs. His cock was half hard from whatever dreams he was having, and Chrollo laid himself out along the bed, taking it in hand to coax it fully to life. It barely fit in his hand, thick and long and as perfect as the rest of him. Chrollo had never met Hisoka’s kin, neither his sires nor siblings, but if he had, he might have thanked them for the care that was put into Hisoka’s conception. His sires obviously knew what they were doing when they married. 

Chrollo glanced up to watch Hisoka’s face for any sign of him waking. An errant brush of his thumb over the head of his cock earned Chrollo a muted hum, Hisoka’s hips rolling into his hand gently. “You like that?” he murmured, smiling a little at the moisture now glistening the tip of Hisoka’s cock. He leaned forward and trailed his lips against the shaft, kissing along the length as he kept up his gentle stroking. 

Warmth greeted his lips, the cock pulsing and twitching, kissing him back in the only way it knew how. Hisoka let out another noise, this one a low moan. His hands tightened in the sheets and pillow, but still he slept on, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out along his skin. Chrollo laughed to himself and opened his mouth, taking in just the head. He gave a gentle suck and closed his eyes to savor the familiar taste. This was so much fun. There was so much to miss about Hisoka, and this had to be near the top of the list. But gods, Hisoka was big. Chrollo’s jaw began to ache, saliva dripping from his chin as he bobbed his head slowly. He used his hand for what he couldn’t swallow, pulling off a bit to lave his tongue along the head, Hisoka’s thighs trembling against his sides. The sounds were getting louder now, Hisoka’s breath more ragged. 

He would wake up in another moment or two. Chrollo smiled around his mouthful. If he were going to wake his lover up, he intended to make it something memorable. 

With his hands on Hisoka’s thighs, Chrollo pulled off completely and caught his breath, watching Hisoka twitch and whine. So beautiful. Chrollo kissed the dripping head and sucked in a lungful of air before taking him down to the hilt, swallowing around him as rhythmically as he knew how. 

Like clockwork, Hisoka awoke with a choked moan, his citrine eyes blinking rapidly through the pleasure. “What?” he mumbled, dragging a hand through his hair to move it from his eyes. His hips were moving despite his confusion, his cheeks flushed as he stared down at Chrollo with growing amusement. “Couldn’t wait for me to wake up?” he asked, biting his lip when Chrollo pulled off, catching his breath for a moment. 

“Maybe you’re still sleeping,” Chrollo gasped, rocking his own hips against the sheets, painfully hard already. He went back down on Hisoka, taking him in about halfway, letting his throat rest. The taste was sharper now, Hisoka dripping precum more and more. 

“Such a sweet dream you are, then,” Hisoka sighed, curling his fingers through Chrollo’s hair. There was no yanking or pulling, or even an insistent press to move Chrollo lower. Hisoka smiled down at him gently, basking in the pleasure he was being given. It made Chrollo’s cheeks burn to watch. 

Hisoka noticed. He always did. His laugh was warm and musical, his hand cupping Chrollo’s chin to pull him off his cock. “But you aren’t a dream, are you?” he asked, his thumb chasing the path of Chrollo’s tongue along his bottom lip. “You’re my blackbird, finally come home.”

Chrollo furrowed his brow and parted his lips, on the verge of correcting Hisoka, but the thumb simply slipped past to settle along his tongue, stopping him from speaking. Hisoka chuckled and pressed down lightly, playing errantly with his mouth as he looked at Chrollo with eyes full of mirth. 

“You don’t need to berate me, pet. I’m aware of the truth,” he said, his other hand brushing a lock of hair behind Chrollo’s ear. “But you’re still home. You’re still here. You’re mine to hold again. Every morning has been misery. Waking up alone, you vanished from my side.” He removed his thumb and guided Chrollo higher. “It’s been torture. Utter torture.” Chrollo went without complaint, laying himself out along his lover’s strong body, kissing him once they were close enough to do so. 

“And now?” Chrollo asked, sighing as he rolled against Hisoka. “How do you feel now?”

Hisoka groaned, closing his eyes for a moment as he savored the feeling. “Chrollo, my sweet,” he said, his bright eyes opening as he gave a lazy, hungry smile. Hands fixed to Chrollo’s hips, he looked utterly content. “I feel as if I could fall for you all over again.” 

“Is that so?” Chrollo kissed him again, just a chaste press that Hisoka chased after when he pulled away. The hands on his hips tightened, and Chrollo tangled his fingers in Hisoka’s thick red hair, brushing it back from his eyes. “You’re that weak to me, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” his lover said, rolling them over easily, sharp teeth glinting as he smiled. “I’m utterly in thrall.”

The sheets were warm against Chrollo’s bare skin, warmed as they were by Hisoka before him. He arched against the bed and towards his lover, leaving his hands to rest on the pillow above his head. “What a dangerous pet I must be,” he sighed, closing his eyes as Hisoka’s lips fell to his bared throat, “to hold my owner in thrall.”

Chrollo felt the teasing twinge of Hisoka’s teeth against his skin, softened only by his lips as he grinned. “You could ask me anything and I’d be hard pressed to refuse you. Not with you so sweet beneath me,” Hisoka breathed, moving lower, taking his time to kiss every inch of Chrollo’s skin that he could. “Not with you yearning for my touch.” He kissed Chrollo’s clavicle. “My heat,” he breathed, meeting Chrollo’s gaze with half-lidded eyes. “My mark.”

The pain blossomed beautifully when Hisoka punctuated his words with a bite, Chrollo’s toes curling and his fingers grasping the pillow weakly. Blood flowed sluggishly down his collarbones, but only for a moment. Hisoka’s tongue lapped it up greedily, cleaning him in slow, stinging licks that felt like blessed agony. 

“There’s only one thing I want,” Chrollo sighed, wrapping his arms around Hisoka’s neck, combing through his hair as he played with the mess he had made. He let out a muted cry when Hisoka took another bite in response. Hisoka really was in a rewarding mood. Sometimes he made Chrollo beg before he bit him twice. 

His lover’s lips were painted red when he pulled back to look at him. They curled into a smile at whatever he saw. “Tell me what it is,” he ordered softly, dipping down to share the taste of Chrollo’s submission in a kiss. “Tell me what you want, pet. I want to spoil you.”

He would do it too. Chrollo knew he would. If he asked for it, Hisoka would make him arch and writhe and cum with barely a moment’s hesitation. If Chrollo just asked, Hisoka would level cities. He would take him in a bed of gems and jewels as the heads of their enemies watched on from pikes. Hisoka would do it, if that was what Chrollo wanted. 

“Let me go,” Chrollo breathed, vision so hazy, the red of the curtains bleeding into the red of Hisoka’s hair. Everything felt so soft, so wonderfully intangible. “Just let me go.”

“Let you go? But Chrollo,” Hisoka chuckled, the laugh playing out against his throat as he leaned down, lapping up the blood that still flowed. “You’re holding me too tightly for that.”

Chrollo shook his head, but it did little to alleviate the wonderful weightlessness the world seemed to have taken on. “Above,” he clarified, whining when Hisoka froze, his tongue pausing mid lick. “Let me go back up.”

Hisoka pulled away with a tense frown on his face. He wiped the blood from his lips and loomed over Chrollo. “We’ve talked about this already,” he said stonily. “I won’t give you that.” 

The pleasurable haze was fading fast, and Chrollo frowned, longing for it to come back. “You mean you’ve talked about it,” he muttered, looking at the curtains angrily. “You must not be very devoted if your generosity comes with stipulations.” 

“Chrollo, don’t be like that. You know very well why I’m saying no.” Hisoka let out a sigh, the mood between them ruined. He peppered Chrollo’s turned cheek with kisses, trying and failing to turn things back into what they had been before. “I’d burn the world for you,” Hisoka promised, his eyes as earnest as they could be. “Isn’t that enough?”

His sincerity stung. “But you won’t let me go out in it,” Chrollo sighed, bringing his fingers to Hisoka’s cheek. “You won’t let me take in the sights and sounds and pleasures it has to offer me. You’d see it in flames before you would see me out in it without you by my side.”

His lover’s face fell. “Well, what could it offer you that’s better than what’s here?” Hisoka sat up, moving himself free from Chrollo’s hands to gesture at the opulent room around them. It was just a shame Chrollo couldn’t see it for the curtains in the way. “What could it offer you that I can’t?”

Chrollo snagged his hand from the air and kissed it. He trailed his lips along the palm, taking in Hisoka’s defeated expression. He really didn’t understand. He didn’t understand at all and Chrollo wasn’t sure he could make him. “This isn’t about you,” Chrollo murmured, hating how Hisoka stiffened. “This isn’t about filling some gap that you can’t fill. It’s about me being who I am.” 

“I thought I knew who you were,” Hisoka mumbled, staring off at the curtains. 

“You do. You know me better than anyone.” Chrollo kissed his hand again, drawing his attention back. “You know that I’ve always been like this. You know how I would leave for a time and then come back. You have to know that I’ll come back from this too.”

Hisoka’s expression was unreadable. His eyes settled on their joined hands, on Chrollo’s lips brushing along his knuckles. He dragged their hands back and leaned in, stealing his lips for his own, kissing Chrollo with a passion he hadn’t expected. 

When they broke, Chrollo was breathless, eyes struggling to stay open as his lover tangled his fingers in his hair. “What was that?” he asked, trailing his hand down Hisoka’s chest, the touch of his warm skin addicting after a kiss like that. 

For a moment, there was nothing. Nothing but the sound of their shared breath and Hisoka’s avoidance. Chrollo kissed him again, just a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you being shy?” he asked, leaning up to nibble Hisoka’s ear. “Do you feel like you don’t have any control?”

Hisoka swallowed and settled his hands on Chrollo’s hips. He didn’t need to answer. Chrollo already knew. Perhaps it had been a bit much to expect Hisoka to handle this sort of talk all at once. 

Pulling himself away, Chrollo pushed down on Hisoka’s shoulders, making him lie flat on the bed. Hisoka grunted a little. “What are you doing?” he asked, watching Chrollo turn around. 

“Giving you a break,” he answered, straddling Hisoka’s waist to present his ass to Hisoka. “Be rough with me. Tell me what to do. Get comfortable again before we come back to it all.”

He leaned himself down to lap again at his lover’s cock and that seemed to bring the life back into his lover. Hisoka’s strong hands settled on his hips and yanked him down lower, the ghost of a sigh teasing Chrollo’s sensitive skin. “You’ve no idea what you do to me, pet,” Hisoka said, kissing his entrance slowly, his tongue slipping inside with a confidence that seemed unshakeable. 

Chrollo had an idea. He had several. A shiver tore down his spine as Hisoka added his fingers in alongside his tongue, working the spot inside that made his thoughts go white. He dropped to his elbows and took Hisoka in as deeply as he could, thighs shaking more and more the longer Hisoka worked. Chrollo could turn Hisoka into a raging beast at the wave of his hand. It was the most powerful feeling in the world, submitting to a man like him. 

But suddenly, too soon, the fingers pulled out, the tongue following suit. Hisoka took him by the hips and tugging Chrollo off of him completely. “Straddle me,” Hisoka ordered, voice a little rasped, husky in a way that made Chrollo shiver. He yanked Chrollo into place when he moved too slowly for him, and Chrollo blushed as he was lined up, hovering just above Hisoka’s hard, wet cock. 

“Hisoka,” he whispered, thighs trembling with the effort of holding himself up. Hisoka would order him to do it. He couldn’t give in until he was allowed. With his hands braced on Hisoka’s chest, he pouted and looked into his lover’s eyes. “Hisoka, please. Please let me.”

Hisoka gripped his hips tighter, holding him in place. “Do you know what I did to bring you back to me?” he asked quietly, his tone serious in a way that seemed out of place given what they were about to do. 

Chrollo squirmed, biting his lip. “Yeah, I know already,” he said, wriggling but getting nowhere. “Do you really want to remind me of that right now? We don’t have to talk about it this minute, Hisoka.”

“That’s not…” Hisoka trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he tightened his jaw and dragged Chrollo down, impaling him on his cock in one swift move. Chrollo threw back his head and scratched Hisoka’s chest, the overwhelming fullness too much all at once. 

When Hisoka spoke again, his voice was tight and his grip tighter on Chrollo’s hips. “That’s not what I meant,” he said through clenched teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. He held Chrollo in place, refusing to move. “I sent hunters, but I had no idea you were on the surface when I did. I searched the Underdark for you, Chrollo.”

Chrollo could barely find his voice. “A-and?” he managed to gasp, leaning forward for a kiss. If he could just distract Hisoka, get him off this topic, maybe he would fuck him the way he needed. 

“And,” Hisoka continued, turning his head so that Chrollo only caught his cheek, “you’ve no idea the things I’ve done to find you. You’ve no idea how many houses I laid to ruin in hopes of finding you within.”

What? 

Hisoka laughed, looking off over his shoulder. “You had no idea, did you? I thought you had been stolen from me, Chrollo,” he said, “because what else would explain you disappearing on me?”

Realization filled Chrollo, but Hisoka saw it too, and before Chrollo could gather the breath to say something, Hisoka thrust into him to make sure what little air he had was wasted on a moan instead. 

“H… Hisoka,” Chrollo whined, the pace too fast to allow for conversation. His thighs moved of their own accord to meet Hisoka’s thrusts halfway. “T-the house, across the street–”

“Yeah,” Hisoka grunted, grinning a little at whatever look Chrollo wore on his face. “I started there. Didn’t know if they might have spied you from your little perch and decided to covet what wasn’t theirs.”

“Started?” Chrollo closed his eyes and moaned, Hisoka driving into him brutally. He could see it now. The ruined manor, the broken, jagged fence– Hisoka had gone through a list of names and destroyed them all, just on the off chance that Chrollo might be somewhere within those walls. How many had Hisoka killed? How many had been exiled? Chrollo’s cheeks burned at the possible numbers, his cock aching at the thought alone. 

Hisoka saw his pleasure, and he laughed. “Do you like that?” he asked, slowing down to torture him a little. “I thought it rather cruel myself, since it was all for naught. I would have felt better if someone had stolen you. At least that way I could imagine you hadn’t left my side willingly.”

The pleasure outshined the guilt Chrollo felt, and for that he was grateful. He leaned down for another kiss, one that Hisoka didn’t shy away from. Their tongues met and Chrollo let Hisoka lead, nearing the edge all the faster for the low groan that rumbled through Hisoka’s chest. 

“P-please,” Chrollo begged, breaking the kiss. “Hisoka, please. Let me cum.” He spoke the words against his lover’s lips, gasping greedily, stealing the breath from Hisoka’s lungs since that was freely given. 

“You think you deserve to cum?” Hisoka asked, his voice a laugh. He gripped Chrollo’s hips and slowed down the pace even more. “You think you deserve it after all those nobles lost everything for the idea of you?” 

“Would you hate me if I said yes?” Chrollo grinned, moisture pricking his eyes as he looked down upon his handsome lover. They both knew full well how those nobles envied Hisoka. Every gala Chrollo went to was one suitor after another begging him to part with Hisoka in favor of them. They had gotten what they deserved, even if it had been under false pretenses. Chrollo couldn’t weep for their loss. It was simply their just due for trying to covet what would never be theirs. 

When Hisoka laughed, Chrollo felt it from the tips of his ears down to his toes. “You really are perfect, aren’t you?” he mused, lifting Chrollo by the thighs and dropping him down in one targeted move. “Touch yourself for me,” he ordered, turning the pace punishing. “I want to see you cum like the needy little pet you are.”

Chrollo made a broken sound, grabbing his cock with a hand that shook. Too good. It all felt too good. His thighs burned from the effort of moving, Hisoka’s hands only urging him faster rather than taking the weight for him. His breath came short, his vision hazy. “I’m so close,” he whined, listing forward, his head bowed from the effort of staying upright. 

“Then do it,” Hisoka ordered, his voice a growl, his hands tightening. “Do it, Chrollo. Cum. Now.” 

He never could resist an order, especially when Hisoka gave it so commandingly. Chrollo came half in his hand, half on Hisoka’s chest, his vision white and his breath lost somewhere in the mix. It didn’t take much for him to lose the battle of keeping upright, and he fell against Hisoka in a heap, ass still bouncing to work off the cock inside him. 

“Hisoka,” Chrollo wailed, wrapping his arms around his lover’s neck, missing his lips as he kissed his cheek, his chin, his throat. Every thrust made his body twitch, his nerves aching and raw but still so desperate for more. 

Hisoka kissed him to swallow his moan, his nails digging into his ass to keep the pain a constant reminder through the pleasure. Chrollo shuddered and shook, clenching harder, working his lover off quickly so that he could share in the bliss too. He was rewarded a moment later with a low grunt, with Hisoka’s bruising grip driving him downwards, his cock pumping him full of his release. Chrollo gasped in his ear. His hips were numb, his neck still bleeding. 

“So perfect,” Hisoka murmured, taking him by the chin and dragging him up for a kiss. Chrollo tried to keep up with it, but found himself falling short. Hisoka smiled against his lips and let him go, combing through hair with his fingers. Chrollo let his head fall to Hisoka’s chest, listening to the slowing of his lover’s heartbeat, feeling the wet mess drip down his thighs once Hisoka gathered the willpower to pull out.

The silence fell like a warm blanket around them, Chrollo sighing happily. It felt so good being like this. Good enough that he could let himself shelf the conversation for a bit longer. His body sang with the echo of Hisoka’s touch, and even if things weren’t perfect, that certainly still was. The heat dissipated slowly, but wrapped in Hisoka's arms, Chrollo hardly felt the returning cold. It had been such a long night already, and now an even longer morning. Slumber teased Chrollo like a soft touch, and with Hisoka sated and quiet, perhaps it was time to give in. 

“How long?”

Chrollo opened his eyes, snatched from the edge of sleep by the sudden question. “How long?” he repeated, blinking tiredly at his lover. He should have expected Hisoka to prefer fucking over talking about the things they desperately needed to talk about. It was a shame Chrollo’s body couldn’t keep up with the demand. “Give me an hour or so. I want to sleep at least a little bit today.”

Hisoka frowned, his expression tight. “Not that,” he muttered, avoiding Chrollo’s eye. “How… How long would you need above? How long would you leave me for?”

He was up and awake before the words had time to fade. Chrollo stared at Hisoka in shock, hardly believing his ears. “Are you serious?” he breathed, hands settled on Hisoka’s broad chest. “You’d really let me go?”

“You’d go whether or not I let you anyway, wouldn’t you?” Hisoka posed, his frown all the deeper. “I just… If I agree to this, I just want to know how long. Where you’ll be. If you’re really safe. It’s dangerous up there for you, Chrollo. I can’t just let you go without being sure.”

Chrollo swallowed the instinctual urge to wrinkle his nose at the promise of more rules. It was fair, though. Exceedingly fair given how he had run off last time without so much as a goodbye. “I will be safe,” he said, dipping down to reward Hisoka with a kiss. “I’ll travel with Silva. He’s strong and he knows the surface.”

Hisoka’s hands were warm on his hips, holding him there as if he never wanted to let go. “I’m… I’m not fond of the idea,” he sighed, meeting Chrollo’s eye reluctantly. He rolled his eyes when he saw Chrollo about to protest. “I don’t care about other lovers. I care that he can touch you when I can’t.”

There wasn’t much of a line between those two things, but Chrollo supposed it was monumentally different to Hisoka. “But is it really the same as when you touch me?” Chrollo asked, kissing him again, rewarding him for being so forthcoming to discuss this at all. “He doesn’t mark me. He doesn’t play with me the way we play together. You’re the only one I let hurt me. Isn’t that enough to assuage your jealousy?” 

The hands went tight on his hips. “It’s better than nothing,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “If he ever leaves a mark on you, I _will_ kill him. If he ever tries to take more from you than what’s been graciously allowed, I’ll kill him. If he tries to _keep_ you…”

“You’ll kill him?” Chrollo prompted, smiling gleefully. 

“Oh,” Hisoka murmured, rolling them over, “I’d make him wish I had.”

“Sounds fair enough,” Chrollo laughed. “What other ground rules do you want?”

Hisoka hummed, tracing his lips against the raised scars he had carved into Chrollo’s shoulder. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “We aren’t used to talking about these sorts of things.”

Truer words had never before been spoken. Up until his escape, Chrollo had been content to let Hisoka do as he pleased. It had always worked out for the best when it came to sex. Looking back on it, that was probably more due to luck than anything. If that hadn’t been so compatible in bed together, there was no telling what sort of issues would have arisen from their decided lack of communication. 

“Maybe that’s where we went wrong. It probably would’ve saved us a lot of anger over all of this if we had,” Chrollo murmured, savoring the teasing kisses while he could. “But I suppose I should just be happy you’re so willing to do it now.” Better late than never, especially when it came to something as important as this.

Ignoring the barb, his lover let out a huff. “Let’s start with my first question,” Hisoka offered, his frown softening into a smile the more they spoke. “How long? I can’t bear to be without you for ages. It’ll be easier since I’ll know where you’re going, but I do have my limits too.” 

Chrollo bit his lip, wondering how much would be too much. They needed time to get any distance away from the Underdark, but factoring in a return time would also eat up days and days. “A few months?” he posed, judging Hisoka’s expression to see if it were too much to ask for. “Six, ideally. Half the year above, half the year with you.”

Hisoka’s smile with rueful. “I was thinking more like two,” he admitted, rolling himself onto his shoulder so they laid side by side. “Six is…”

“It’s the blink of an eye for us, Hisoka,” Chrollo reminded him. 

“When it’s misery being parted from you for a minute, let alone a month, it’s not.” Hisoka sighed. “Three months.”

Chrollo raised a brow, recognizing the tone Hisoka was using as the one he used when dealing with matters regarding price and the government. So, they were haggling now, were they? “Five, and I’ll spend another month here before I leave,” he said, leaning closer to his lover to touch his chest gently. 

Hisoka took his wrist before his could, seeing through his act easily. “You’re staying here a while yet longer regardless, pet,” he said firmly. “I won’t let you leave me any time soon. Not until I’ve been assured that everything I want is in order before you go.” 

That was probably fair, but Chrollo didn’t have to like it. “See it from my side, Hisoka,” he tried. “I have to travel on foot. If you don’t give me time enough to account for that, I won’t be able to make any good distance. I won’t be able to see all I want to see. Silva’s work requires that, so I need at least five months.” 

“I’ll get you horses,” Hisoka said firmly.

“You know I don’t know how to care for one,” Chrollo scoffed. “I won’t have you monitoring everything either. If you’ve got ideas of following us with more hunters, I’ll kill them on sight.” From the way Hisoka’s nostrils flared, Chrollo could tell he had been planning exactly that. 

Before Hisoka could argue, Chrollo covered his mouth with his hand. “Do you trust me, Hisoka?” he asked, meeting his eye evenly. “Do you trust that I’m able to defend myself? Do you trust that I’ll come back?”

“It’s not you I distrust,” Hisoka said, pulling his hand down, holding it against his cheek. “It’s everyone else in the world.”

“They’re not so bad,” Chrollo tried, rolling closer to kiss him soothingly. “They’re pigheaded and rude, but nothing I can’t handle. I’ve dealt with worse here and you know it.” He ran his hand along Hisoka’s muscled arm, looking up at him through his lashes. “And just think; you won’t have to pay Silva at all if you consider allowing him my company to be reward enough.”

“It’s not fair when you get like this,” Hisoka breathed, kissing him again but deeper. “Does he know about that, or is that a little surprise for him later?”

Chrollo shrugged, smiling. “He needs punished still for what he did. It would suit him right if he went through all of this for nothing but the pleasure of my company.” 

Hisoka laughed against his hair, holding him close, his lips brushing Chrollo’s ear like a tease. “I’d give anything for that,” he said softly. “I’d give anything to be able to travel at your side so long as it meant we were together. He has no idea how lucky he is.”

A wave of wistfulness flowed through Chrollo, and for a moment, he wanted that too. “You love your life too much here to give it up,” Chrollo said softly, burying his face in Hisoka’s neck. “I wouldn’t make you give it up just for me.”

“Even if it’s just for three months?” Hisoka chuckled.

Chrollo nipped his skin with his teeth gently. “I thought I said five,” he mused. “Funny how you heard three. Greedy, aren’t you? Or maybe you’re just growing hard of hearing in your old age.”

Hisoka frowned and held him tighter. “Four months,” he tried, but from the tone of his voice Chrollo could tell he knew he was fighting a losing battle. “Four and I send a hunter for weekly updates.”

“Five months,” Chrollo said firmly, kissing Hisoka’s lips, and then his cheeks, and then his eyes. “I’ll leave here a month from now, and you can expect me back in exactly five. I’ll send letters if I’m able. I’ll visit if I’m homesick.” He smiled and put himself against Hisoka’s ear, kissing the lobe gently. “I’ll let you strip me bare and check for marks. You can fuck me in the foyer, and I won’t complain. In front of every noble you hate, if you want.”

Hisoka’s protests were strangled in his throat and the words. He pulled back and looked at Chrollo with wide, lust-darkened eyes. “If it’s even an hour more–”

He laughed, kissing Hisoka again. “I’ll let you drag me back with a thousand hunters if it is,” he promised, nuzzling Hisoka’s neck. “You can send one every month for a progress report, but any more than that and I start sending them back sans eyes.” He could see it now, the wild life before him. Silva was sure to love the rules, but Chrollo was sure he would warm up to it once he recognized all the perks it would afford him. Endorsed by a Drow noble like Hisoka, Silva’s reputation would become the thing of legends. It would more than make up for the decided lack of gold. Or, make up for it enough. 

“Don’t think for a moment I won’t,” Hisoka said, wrapping his arms around Chrollo to hold him tight. He hardly looked happy, but that was to be expected. They were fair terms that didn’t favor him as much as he would like. Chrollo leaned up to give him a kiss, rewarding him for putting up with it. 

It didn’t surprise him when Hisoka deepened the chaste kiss into something heated. Chrollo parted his lips and accepted it eagerly, warm from his fingers to his toes. A hand stroked down his waist and hip, tugging him closer to Hisoka’s firm body. Were they going to do it again? It had been a fair bit less than an hour, but after all of the conceding Hisoka had done, Chrollo supposed that another rough round was fair. 

Breaking the kiss, he took in a ragged breath, tangling their legs together. “You feel so good, Hisoka,” Chrollo murmured, shivering a little when Hisoka’s warm breath rolled across his wet lips. “You make coming back down here bearable.”

“Is that what encourages you to come back?” Hisoka laughed a little, dragging Chrollo by the hips until he was laid out on top of him. His cock was hardening, sliding wetly against his hip as they rolled together in a long established rhythm. Forward, back, forward, back– Chrollo let out a breath of a moan and wrapped himself around Hisoka like a vine. “I guess I’ll have to fuck you enough to make up for every moment you’re away.” 

He punctuated the statement with a firm squeeze, Chrollo arching as Hisoka’s fingers dug into the fresh bruises covering his hips. The pain came swiftly and smoothly, ghosting over his body like a phantom touch. “Such lofty promises,” he laughed, feeling drunk on this alone. “Do you really think you can make good on them?

Hisoka found his lips in a kiss, one that was short but nowhere near chaste. “Well, how else will I make sure you come back?” he asked, staring at Chrollo as if he were the sun, the moon, and every star they couldn’t see this deep below the earth. It made the decision to leave harder than it should have been. There really was nothing above that could compare to Hisoka’s touch. To his adoration. 

“I’m your blackbird, aren’t I?” Chrollo whispered, his heart skipping a beat when Hisoka smiled. “I’ll always fly home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> epilogue next~


	14. Epilogue

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into agreeing to this,” Silva complained for the fourth time that morning. His bag was slung over his shoulder, his axe over the other, and despite the filling breakfast and restful night they had had, he still held the air of someone being dragged around against his will.

In his defense, the dragging was also literal. “Quit complaining,” Chrollo chided, holding tighter to the hunter’s sleeve in case he got it in his head to try and make a run for it. “This is the least of what you deserve after all you put me through.” Chrollo could understand Silva’s antsyness. The temperature was growing warmer the closer they got to the surface, and the need to chase it seemed infectious. Even the chilly, damp tunnel couldn’t lower Chrollo’s mood. Not today. His smile was so big it ached. It was hard to believe this was really happening. He’d had too many dreams just like this to fully believe it all was real.

At least Silva’s attitude was a good reality check. Silva let out another put upon sigh, letting himself be dragged through the low chamber. He was bent forward, far too tall for the Drow-made tunnel. “Couldn’t have at least let me keep the money?” he grumbled, glaring a bit. “I think it’s fair compensation for you making me stay in this damp hellhole for so long.”

“I think you’re lucky to leave with your life.” Chrollo looked back at the hunter with a smile. If Chrollo had wanted to, he could have done much worse than make Silva stay. “Don’t get greedy now. It won’t change my mind.”

“Nor will it change mine,” Hisoka murmured up ahead, leading the way with a dogged determination that Chrollo had to commend. He looked over his shoulder with a look that was patently unimpressed, made even more so by the handful of faerie fire he wielded like a torch to light their way. There were guides for this sort of thing, but when it came to his blackbird, Hisoka insisted on doing the work himself. “You think you deserve more than what I’ve already given?”

“I think I deserve more than just being saddled with the brat,” he muttered, glaring down at the wrist trapped in Chrollo’s hand. He gave it a tug to test Chrollo’s grip, only to be rewarded with a tighter one. Silva frowned. “At least give me some money too. Don’t trust him with all of it.”

And let Silva spend it all in a town Chrollo couldn’t go into? Yeah, that was definitely going to happen. “Play nicely, you two,” Chrollo chastised, rolling his eyes. The bickering had lessened over the course of their preparations, but like hell was it gone it its entirety. He let go of Silva’s wrist, trusting him to follow now that the exit was in sight. “We all did agree to this, so let’s try to pretend we’re happy with it.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” they both mumbled in varying degrees of synchronicity. Hisoka glared back at Silva and Silva met his distaste head on the moment they realized what they had done. Chrollo couldn’t help it. He laughed, the sound echoing through the tunnel. What a group they would make if Hisoka were able to come with them. Silva would probably slit his own throat before agreeing to _that_ , but the thought was enough to lessen the stab of want jabbing insistently into Chrollo’s chest.

“Are we almost there?” Silva asked with a groan.

“Whining already? Who’s the brat now, Silva?” He dodged the swipe directed at him artfully, darting up to hide behind Hisoka’s arm. Chrollo stuck out his tongue and laughed when Silva glowered.

“Still you, brat,” the hunter growled, stomping after them with an angry toss of his head. “You can’t hide behind him forever. I’ll get you once we’ve left this hellhole. Then you’ll be in for it.”

Chrollo’s eyes widened when an arm wrapped around his waist. “You’ll do no such thing,” Hisoka said, pulling Chrollo flush to his side. Holding out a hand, Hisoka gestured them forward with his face turned towards the ground. “There is the exit,” he murmured, looking up just to glare at Silva when he charged past, no doubt eager to be free of the underground. “Don’t let the earth shatter down on top of you on your way out, Hunter.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, Your Lordship,” Silva snarled, shoving aside the faux rock doorway. Sunlight streamed in brightly enough to blind. “I don’t plan on letting anything get me down now.”

“He really is an utter beast, isn’t he?” Hisoka sighed.

Chrollo shrugged, smiling. “It grows on you.” Hisoka really was holding tight to him. It took a moment to free himself, and then another before he could follow after the human. Hisoka rolled his eyes in disbelief, muttering under his breath in their language what he thought about Chrollo’s taste in lovers. Whatever. Let him pout. Hisoka would be fine just as soon as he got over his knee-jerk jealousy.

A rustle of paper sounded at the mouth of the entrance and Chrollo looked forward to see Silva unfurling the old map with a flourish. “Where do you want to go first, brat?” Silva called out, his eyes narrowed as he read in the low light. “Tuskina? Jalen has some good markets, but you’ve never seen the sea, have you? We could try for Reblin if that was something you wanted to see…”

The names flowed past his ears like honey. “It doesn’t matter where.” Chrollo closed his eyes as the sun bathed his face in warmth. The chill in his bones began to thaw the more he imagined what all these names might be like. What all they might hold. He couldn’t wait to be surrounded in the light of the day, experiencing it through something more than a book in a chilly library. “I want to see it all, so anywhere is good to me.”

“See, you say that, but I’m the one who has to figure out everything else.” Silva grumbled and fussed with the map, the light reflecting brightly off his pale hair. Chrollo smiled at his partner’s shoulders. As grouchy as he was acting, he could tell that Silva was just as excited at he was.

What all would they see? What all would they do? The possibilities were as endless as the clouds he could see just beyond the mouth of the opening. Chrollo took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, already feeling the warmth on his cheeks and the wind in his hair. His bag was full of supplies, his money pouch heavy with all Hisoka had thrust upon him. They could go anywhere like this. They could do anything.

“Chrollo?” a voice called out, breaking him from his thoughts. Chrollo turned and saw Hisoka hiding in the shadow of the opening, his thick cloak pulled tightly around his shoulders and the hood drawn over his head. Though he was hidden from the touch of the sun, Chrollo could see how it bothered him regardless. “Could you come here for a moment?” he asked, wearing an awkward smile. “I can’t imagine how you can bear this light.”

Chrollo smiled, patting Silva’s arm apologetically as he climbed down the steps, joining his lover in the shadows. “It’s not that bad once you get used to it. And Hisoka, I thought we already said our goodbyes,” he teased, folding himself easily into his lover’s warm embrace. “I know you still want to imagine I’ll change my mind, but a desperate look doesn’t suit you.”

“Don’t tease me, pet. No amount of goodbyes will make your absence weigh on me less,” Hisoka murmured, holding him tightly, kissing his head. “Do you really have to do this? Do you really have to leave?”

Pulling away, Chrollo looked into his lover’s eyes, smiling with as much assurance as he could. “I do,” he said, cupping Hisoka’s cheek in his hand. So warm and so handsome. He was trying not to show his sadness, but he couldn’t fool Chrollo. “You’ll be okay, Hisoka. You’ll barely notice I’m gone.”

Hisoka scoffed, leaning into Chrollo’s hand. “A lie tastes the same no matter how sweet the face, my blackbird. Come back if you miss me at all. Even a little. Know that I’m longing for you every moment you’re away.” He leaned closer and met Chrollo in a gentle kiss, one that was too chaste to sate. “You’ll long for me too, won’t you?” Hisoka whispered, golden eyes half-mast, his breath a tease against Chrollo’s lips.

Chrollo pulled away before he could do something stupid like stay. His cheeks felt warm, his thoughts a little hazy. “You know I will,” he breathed, giving Hisoka’s cheekbone one last stroke before he let his hand fall back down to his side. “Thank you again, Hisoka. For understanding.”

“Don’t thank me, pet. If it were up to me I’d keep you with me.” Hisoka sighed and managed a smile despite his obvious mood. “But this is what you want, and I was always terrible at being withholding.”

“Don’t take it so hard,” Silva called out from his spot near the opening. His arms were crossed and he had a foot propped up against the wall behind him, looking impatient and uncomfortable at playing audience to their tearful goodbye. “I think we’ve both been duped into going along with the brat’s whims.”

Hisoka smiled, laughing a little under his breath. “Take care of him,” Hisoka ordered, summoning himself up to his full height to pretend he wasn’t as upset as he was. “Die before you let a single ill befall him.”

“He can take care of himself,” Silva said, smiling despite himself. “But I’ll do my best to return him in one piece.”

Hisoka hummed, not quite pleased but unable to say more with Chrollo staring at him so pointedly. He managed a rueful smile. It was tight, but it was still sincere. Chrollo was thankful for the effort. It was more than he would have expected to get a few months ago. All of this was far beyond anything he had ever hoped to imagine then.

A patient -if albeit so- lover. A partner who was ready and willing to show him the world, and all that which laid beyond it.

And above all, an open path with the sun shining, beckoning them forward.

“Ready to go?” Silva asked, settling his hand on Chrollo’s shoulder.

Chrollo broke away from his thoughts to smile at his partner. “Yeah,” he said, taking his first step into the sun. “I think I am.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're done! in the book version there's another chapter between 12 and this, too, one that involves them all discussing the details of the arrangement. still working on it so i didn't include it in this version. 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed it! this is definitely the longest fic ive posted, so im proud of you guys for sticking it out til the end. please let me know your thoughts on things, namely how you liked it and all that. im very eager to hear everyones thoughts! ive never tried writing erotica before and its something im really trying to make sure i do well. 
> 
> also, if you're interested in the book version of this (which you totally should be since its AMAZING from what my editors are telling me), please follow me on tumblr at tdcloud.tumblr.com or on facebook @tdcloud! you can get all the updates on my book projects there, including release dates, art sneak peeks, and info on deals/meet-and-greets. 
> 
> until next time, guys! thank you so much for your help on this!

**Author's Note:**

> [10/10/17] We'll be live with this book on halloween!! Definitely check out the full version on amazon (under the same title) if you'd like to support me, and thank you for reading this version and helping me test out the first draft. Cover art and official summaries (as well as exclusive excerpts) are available on my tdcloud tumblr, so please take a look at those when you get a chance. It's been an awesome ride with this work, and I can't wait to see the finished product! Thank you all for reading, and I hope you love what's yet to come~


End file.
